


puppy love

by moonvalentine



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonvalentine/pseuds/moonvalentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To help pay her way through school, med student Sakura takes on a third job as a dog walker. She doesn't quite have enough room in her schedule for eight dogs—or their highly eccentric owner, for that matter—but she'll make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. knock knock

**Author's Note:**

> dear GOD am i terrible at simultaneous updates. this is being posted on ffnet and has been since it started in june, so if you're interested in seeing whatever asinine little notes i write as i go, feel free to look there too. i tend to post more of my naruto and/or kakasaku fic on there anyway, but i'm going to try my best to remember to post shit on this site too. this is exhibit A of me trying my best. 
> 
> comments, as always, are appreciated. :)

_If I don't hear from you within fifteen minutes, I'm calling the police._

Sakura shook her head. She would've laughed had her stomach not been caught in nauseating knots. With another glance at the house across the street—plain, unassuming; either totally _not_ a serial killer's house or _definitely_ one—she responded to Shizune's text with some default answer, her foot tapping an irregular beat on the pavement all the while.

She looked at the house again. The neighborhood where it was situated wasn't terrible, considering its distance from the city center, but it wasn't particularly great either. Two-story, narrow, detached between a row of others, faded white with brown wooden trim and a rail on the second-floor porch made of the same. A few of the railing's posts were split, splintered— _chewed_ , maybe? Probably. She pulled the crumpled newspaper piece out her front pocket for reassurance.

 _Daily Dog Walker Needed,_ it read, followed by a local phone number. She'd called it, of course; that was why she was here in the first place. The guy had seemed nice enough on the phone. Maybe a little distracted, but as a grad student working two jobs—possibly three now, or none if she actually _did_ get murdered—it was something she could easily understand, if not entirely dismiss.

The promise of income reminded her to suck it up, take a deep breath, and actually walk to the door, past the wooden fence lining either side of the driveway and the mountains of trash bags on the way up. She knocked, then waited. But she didn't have to wait for long.

Immediately the sound of dogs barking, a _chorus_ of them, made her nearly jump out of her skin. The deepest yelp was the closest to the door, followed by a bunch of yaps a few octaves higher. There was some shuffling—some tough paws sliding against hardwood, and then the door was unlocked and opened. In the doorway stood a tall man about as plain as the house's exterior.

"Hello," he greeted, voice deep and pleasant, a stark contrast to his disconcertingly dark eyes. "You must be Sakura."

"Hi?" she replied dumbly, nervously, because now the serial killer thing seemed like a real possibility. He was a tall man, his hair short and brown like most men wore it these days, but those were about as defining as his features got. Meanwhile, here she was, a young adult female with pink hair and decent enough backstory to generate sympathy when she inevitably ended up on the nightly news.

She could only hope they'd pick a good picture of her and not her dreadful high school yearbook photo, the one where her forehead looked like it could safely land an airplane. Her hands twitched against her thighs.

"Well—" The man suddenly lurched to the side, and Sakura saw a huge black dog headbutt his hip. Another dog, much smaller and scruffier, was trying to claw his way around the edge of the door, which was being held mostly closed to prevent them from escaping. "Whoa now, guys, calm down." He laughed a little, quite self-consciously. "It's just the walker."

At the sound of the word _walk,_ she assumed, the dogs went haywire, paws skidding around almost maniacally. The man stepped out of the doorway abruptly, which made Sakura take a giant step back, and then he shut the door behind him with a sigh.

"Sorry about that. I'm not very good at handling them."

Uh oh. Not a good sign. She shifted uncomfortably, her boots scraping against the concrete. "Um, how many are there?"

He had to think about that for a second, counting on his fingers as he did. "Eight."

She blinked and squeaked out an incredulous laugh, more out of shock than humor. _"Eight?"_

"Uh, yes…?"

"I'm sorry," she said at his perplexed expression. Nervously, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I think I got some of the details confused. When we talked on the phone you made it sound like there were only a few of them."

"Ah." Apparently everything made sense to him now, if she could judge by the way he was slowly nodding, a wry smile on his mouth. "I'm not their owner; just his friend. I'm Yamato, by the way."

She shook his hand. It was rough, covered in hard calluses that were only earned from constant work. "Sakura," she replied, then got a little embarrassed because he already knew that. "If you're not the owner, then…?"

"He's at work right now," Yamato supplied, reaching into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts. "Normally he doesn't go so early, but there was a board meeting or something, so he asked me to get you set up."

Sakura blinked again, wondering what kind of businessman living in the city had eight dogs. She took the key Yamato offered her, a silver one with a cute bone-shaped charm attached to the ring.

Was it…was this a key to the owner's house? When she hadn't even _met_ him?

"He wanted me to give you this," he said by way of explanation. "He'd like you to be here sometime between nine and noon every day, except for Monday and Tuesday. Not for the whole three hours, though, because of your schedule—he said you were a student?"

"Uh, yes." She cleared her throat, curling hair behind her ear again. "I'm in medical school. My schedule kind of varies by the day."

Yamato, much to her delight, seemed mildly impressed by this. It put her at ease, if only slightly.

"Of course." The dogs were clawing against the back of the door now, one or two barking for attention. "I'll show you where to refill their food and water, where the leashes are, and who gets which of each. Otherwise, walking them for an hour or so is all there is to it."

"Great," she breathed. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. It would be nice, she thought, for her to have one obligation where she didn't have to work her ass off.

He paused awkwardly, shoulders stiff, before remembering himself. "Would you like to meet the dogs?"

"Sure," she agreed, smoothing her palms against her jeans as he unlocked the door. Against her fading better judgment, she followed Yamato inside.

Before she could even think, she was knocked to the ground.

.

.

.

Her phone buzzed repeatedly in her pocket, so many times now that her thigh was numb. She fumbled to pull it out of her jeans, switching the leashes to one hand and thanking whatever good sense she'd had that her kickboxing classes in undergrad were paying off.

"Yes, Shizune! I'm alive!" _Barely!_ Sakura almost added into the phone, feeling her hair stick to her temples from sweat. It was only early spring, and they'd barely gone half a mile, but her bangs were already curling against her forehead.

_"Jesus Christ, I almost got a peptic ulcer. It's been half an hour!"_

Sakura plopped gratefully onto a bench with a resounding sigh. The dogs slowed, curious as to why she'd stopped walking; some didn't notice, which pulled at her arm when they tried to keep going. "Sorry. Really. The guy kind of left me with the dogs once he showed me where their food was, and then I basically had to sprint and strongman my way to the park."

 _"I understand. I do."_ A pause. Shizune had probably set her phone down, since it distinctly sounded like it was on speaker. _"Next time, though, please just try and give me even a little bit of a heads-up."_

"I will. We can get beepers or something." She kept her tone light, joking, hoping it would permeate through the receiver. Shizune hadn't been her first choice of emergency contact in this situation, but Sakura had needed someone to know where she was, and there was no way she could trust her roommate with anything that required a sense of urgency—he was probably still asleep, anyway, and he probably wouldn't care enough to do anything if something went awry. Her only other option would have been to call her lab partner, but Hinata was too nice, and they hardly knew each other, and it would have turned into a weird kind of burden that neither of them would be able to shake.

 _"Sure, yeah."_ Shizune exhaled deeply. _"How are the dogs?"_

Sakura decided to leave out the detail of how many there were. "They're cute. A little wild, but they're probably just excited to get out of the house."

Contrary to her description, the dogs had gathered around her feet, some glancing up at her expectantly with shiny, adorable black eyes, some with their heads following the movements of passersby. The biggest one—Bull, if she remembered correctly, the most aptly named of them all—was asleep, a leg resting on top of her boot as he relaxed in the morning sunlight.

_"I bet. It's a beautiful day to be at the park."_

"Mhmm." She decided to follow Bull's example, reclining against the bench to veg for a few minutes.

It was then that she realized that literally everyone who passed by was staring at her. This was not an exaggeration. Most were thrilled to see a bunch of puppies wagging their tails at them, but many likely thought she was some homeless dog collector. She certainly dressed like one—scuffed men's working boots, jeans with coffee stains and rips at the knee, a shirt so stretched at the collar it almost fell off one shoulder. Not to mention her hair—cropped short at her chin, messy bangs to cover her forehead, bubblegum pink and as fluffy and spiky as the dogs she sat with. Even her sunglasses looked like shit, crooked on one side of her face.

It was probably a good thing she hadn't met her new boss today.

_"Listen—I'll let you go now. I've gotta get back, but I'm glad everything worked out."_

"I know you are," Sakura replied with a teasing smirk stretching one corner of her mouth. "Thanks for checking up on me."

 _"That's what I'm here for."_ She could almost hear Shizune's smile through the phone. _"Later, Sakura-chan."_

"Bye." Her phone went back into her pocket, and then she could finally hold the leashes in both hands. She pushed them up over her wrists so she could finally pet the dogs, really get acquainted with them.

One had hopped up onto the bench with her—it was the beagle, laying on his back. _Guruko,_ the name tag read, his collar a dark hunter green. He seemed sweet and friendly, his paws in the air as his tongue wagged and his ears flopped back against the seat. Sakura scratched his stomach, which he seemed to enjoy.

Another one, the gray one with a tuft of black fur on his head—he was probably mixed with some kind of husky, she guessed—licked at his crotch on the ground beside her. Cute. His silver tag glinted in the sun; Shiba was his name. She tried saying it once to see if he would stop, though the attempt was expectedly unsuccessful.

Akino, she remembered, was the mild-mannered shiba inu. He was a beautiful dog, nice and calm, and he wore black goggles. Maybe he was blind or simply hard of seeing in the sunlight, or perhaps they were just a preference of the owner.

Uhei was apparently some kind of greyhound, though his fur was an almost russet color. He was also pretty chill, though he stood at attention, dutifully letting some schoolgirls pat his head when they paused to admire him.

Yamato had warned her about Urushi, the asshole of the group. He was a bit of a yapper with sharp teeth and eyes, but the most trouble he seemed to be stirring up was bruising her wrist where he yanked against his leash, trying to chase after a businessman reading the newspaper.

On top of Bull was a Rottweiler puppy, an unusually tan one who was unusually… _not_ like a stereotypical Rottweiler. Maybe she was just lucky he was a puppy, or perhaps all the movies had painted them in a bad light. Sakura reached over to find his tag—Bisuke; appropriate—but he shied away a bit. She noted that he was one who didn't like to be touched, at least not by her.

And then there was Pakkun, the unspoken leader of the group, which cracked her up considering he was easily the smallest. He was a little brown pug with sleepy eyes, accepting his fate of being doted on by other young students on their way to school.

She scratched at Guruko's belly for another minute before figuring they probably needed to get an actual walk in. With a deep breath, she stood up, bracing herself and rousing them with a "Come on, boys!"

It didn't take much to get them going, but once they started off, she could hardly keep up.

.

.

.

"You look like shit," came the bored observation from the man on her sofa.

"Thanks, asshole." With a roll of her eyes, she trudged to the fridge, going for the big bottle of water at the front. She nearly downed half of it in three sips. It made her a little bit nauseated in the end, but whatever. "Anyway, leave. I've had too long of a day to deal with you."

"But the championships are on," he stated, not _really_ arguing with her, which meant she couldn't _really_ get mad at him. Not so luckily for Shikamaru, she was always one to rise to the challenge.

"Go buy your own TV!" She stomped a few feet over to the couch and bent over to leer at him. God, her back hurt. "If your parents have enough money to own this duplex, then I'm sure they can work out _some_ sort of solution for you."

"That also means I can get you evicted." Shikamaru sipped his beer, eyes still on the television. Sakura paid no mind to his empty comment—he wouldn't dare think about it, nor would he put in the effort to do so.

"Not if I flirt with your dad," she sang, pulling at his tangled mess of a ponytail hard enough to induce a pointed frown. "Maybe I'll bake him some cookies, too."

"You can't even cook," he griped, swatting her hand away with a limp arm. "What is it with you and older men, anyway?"

"They're a hell of a lot better to deal with than guys like you." She didn't bring up how barren the romantic and sexual aspects of her life had been since she'd decided to apply for med school, because surely Shikamaru knew—he was in her one-room apartment more often than he was in his own next door, and the walls were thin enough for him to know if she were getting any action. Which she wasn't. Ever. Not even with guys her own age. In the meantime, Sakura resorted to jokes that said otherwise, typically defaulting to ones about her hot landlord.

"Hn." His only other response was to point the remote at the television and turn up the volume. A chess tournament. Shikamaru was taking over her room to watch a fucking _chess tournament._

"Oh my God. _Get out._ " She swiped the controller from his hand. The screen went black the instant she pressed the power button. "It's past midnight, and I've been working since eight in the morning, and I still need to shower and study and _eat_ , and I'm _tired."_

By the end of her sentence, the words had become more of a whine than a rant, and Shikamaru closed his eyes and stuck a finger in his ear like he was blocking it all out. "You sure are a buzzkill."

"Imagine having a job, or going to school. Or, you know, a general responsibility to society." She jabbed a finger toward the door, making sure he got the hint. "You'd be one too."

After a long pause complete with the dead stare he usually gave her, he stood up with a sigh, moving at the approximate speed of molasses. He shuffled toward the door in his house slippers and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the waistband of his sweatpants.

"If you happen to turn that back on, let me know who wins." He stuck one in his mouth, probably hoping to tick her off one last time before leaving the room altogether.

At the click of the door closing, Sakura's entire body sagged in relief. _Finally_ she was alone. The first order of business was to peel off her socks, then her jeans, then her shirt and ratty old bra. Then she walked across the small space in just her underwear, heating up the kettle for dinner. Tea and ramen again, it seemed. The irony of her choices in contrast to her career path had stopped being funny a while ago.

After dinner she took a quick shower, not quite long or hot enough to knead some of the soreness from the day out of her system. Thursdays were always her busiest day of the week, and the dog walking job didn't help anything. She had work from ten to three at the clinic, then her pathology lab from three-thirty to five-thirty, and then her job at the coffee shop from six to midnight. There was hardly enough time for her to get a proper meal in, let alone _eat_ sometimes.

Hair still wet, pajamas half-on, she sank onto her mattress after turning off the lamp on the table beside it. It wasn't a glamorous life, nor was it an easy one, but she was sure one of these days it would pay off. Right then, though, she didn't even have the energy to care whether it did.

.

.

.

The following week or so passed in the same manner, exactly as it had for over a year now. The only thing different was the addition of her newest job.

The first few days of walking the dogs were…well, they were a little challenging, if Sakura were to admit that to herself. But she was definitely not one to let a bit of frustration get in the way of doing her job properly, even if it meant going through the rest of her day with sweat-kinked hair and clothes covered in dog fur.

Each morning would start off with her letting herself into the house—still weird—to find the dogs already waiting by the door, tongues wagging out of their excited smiles. It was a nice pick-me-up when she had a day of work and class and asshole coworkers and aggravating neighbor-roommates looming over her.

She would quickly make sure they had enough food and water, which they almost always did. Their owner seemed pretty attentive for someone with eight dogs. Not to mention that his house—or at least the glimpses of it she could get in the short periods she was there—was relatively tidy, but that was probably due to how sparsely furnished it was.

Then they would walk about half a mile to the small park, where she would get a can of coffee from the vending machine before letting the dogs lead her down the tree-lined concrete path. She'd finally gotten comfortable enough to listen to music on her headphones instead of the people whispering and giggling with interest as she passed. It all made for a very pleasant hour, and the dogs quickly adapted to the routine, even if Urushi and Shiba liked to stray and nip at the ankles of unsuspecting park goers.

This particular Friday, marking her seventh day on the job, was particularly wonderful. Sakura had finished her last exam of the semester and was now on a month-long spring break. An entire _month_ without school. She relished the thought so much that she went to do her dog-walking with a refreshing burst of energy, one that required no caffeine beforehand. It was good thing, too; the machine was out of her favorite coffee anyway.

In the midst of her good mood, she walked the dogs a bit further than she usually did, toward the other end of the park which was lined with a row of shops and buildings, as well an archway that marked the entrance to a high school up the hill. She figured she'd turn around once they got to the archway, but no. Oh no.

Her empty stomach, void of a breakfast she'd been too rushed to eat and coffee she couldn't buy, was immediately and almost _painfully_ aware of some delicious smell in the air—something yummy, and warm, and most likely very unhealthy. Of course the dogs were aware of it, too; they practically dragged her in its general direction. She had to yank at their leashes with all her might just to stop them from crossing the street before the signal turned green.

"Hey!" she hissed, arms straining. Even Bull was struggling against her, for crying out loud. "Pakkun!" she tried instead, hoping that if he calmed down, the rest of them would. It usually worked in her favor, but not today.

Sakura looked toward where they were trying to break free and run to, but all she saw was a van—well, it was more like a truck, painted in gray and black that was kind of hard to make out. The only thing that stood out in the mural was a big sun—or moon, maybe; she couldn't tell—as mustard yellow as the knit sweater she was wearing. There were also big red katakana characters painted over the top half, though she didn't have time to read them before the light turned green and the people beside her started walking across the street, which meant the dogs followed, and she barely caught herself from faceplanting in the middle of the crosswalk.

When they made it across the street, she went right for it, mostly because the dogs gave her little choice. It was a food truck with a line of maybe two people in front of the window—it wasn't quite lunch hour for school kids and office workers, so it wasn't busy yet. Before she could even think about it, Sakura went to stand in line, which made the dogs _finally_ stop trying to get away. They pawed pleadingly at her jean shorts instead, scratching pink lines down her legs that she barely felt.

From this close she could see the details of the truck's mural, conveniently painted on both sides. It depicted a city full of tall gray buildings, some of which were half-destroyed by a Godzilla-sized dachshund standing on its hind legs and wreaking havoc with short little arms. The yellow sun she'd noticed first was behind it, making the old-fashioned planes and skyscrapers look like silhouettes. One building was on fire. The big red characters she'd seen before went over her head for a minute, but then she sounded them out in her mind.

 _Holy shit,_ she thought with a shocked and unamused slackening of her eyelids. _Giant Wieners. This fucking thing is called Giant Wieners._

"Next," a bored male voice called, and she tore her eyes away to see someone looking at her from the window counter—an old guy with a face mask on, the kind people usually only wore when they were sick. Comforting.

"Me?" she asked, eyes scanning the vicinity for any signs of a health rating. The guy simply nodded and waved his hand downward, beckoning her toward the counter.

"What can I get for you?"

Sakura was momentarily distracted by the fact that despite his shock of gray-white hair, he didn't actually _look_ old at all. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the skin there was a bit on the pale side, but it seemed relatively smooth—no age spots; none of that translucence that came with age. What she could see of his face was a pair of dark eyes with mild crow's feet at the outer corners, but otherwise no wrinkles. Huh.

"Oh, uh." She blinked a few times, trying to remember what he'd said. "I don't know."

He casually pointed his pen at the menu beside the window, complete with pictures of every item.

Hot dogs. Of _course._

Sakura was sure that the name of the truck came not only from a shitty sense of humor, but also from the sheer multitude of toppings on each hot dog. Some had things like yakisoba or okonomiyaki toppings on them; some were more western, like the one with chili and cheese and onions on top. The best looking one was deep-fried like a corn dog but had pieces of french fries in the batter. She could almost _feel_ her arteries preemptively protesting, but it was cheap and god damn it, she was hungry.

Bull came up beside her when she readjusted the leash handles onto her wrists, and she scratched behind his ears with one hand while pulling some loose cash out of her bag with the other. "I'll take one of the fried potato corn dog thingies."

"Excellent choice," he drawled as she handed him money. The dogs bounced up toward the counter in intervals; Urushi yapped a few times. Sakura sighed, putting on her best sweet-but-distressed smile.

"Is there any way I could get a few extra sausages too? Just plain ones, by themselves?"

"Yeah, sure." He opened the cash register, the clanking so loud she wondered if it was broken.

"How much more do I owe you?" she asked, confused when he handed back the exact amount of change she'd been expecting.

"Don't worry about it." He flapped a nonchalant hand a few times, then leaned over the counter on his elbows. "It's on the house."

This was pleasant, if a bit surprising, news to her ears. But it seemed the man had a soft spot for her companions, who started jumping and barking in excited unison when he looked down at them with a wave. His eyes creased into happy little half-moons.

"Cute dogs."

"Thanks," Sakura replied as she bent down to gingerly pat Guruko and Bisuke into submission, hoping that the other pups would follow suit—though that methodology didn't seem to be working today. "They're not mine, actually. I just walk them."

"Ah, I see." His tone suggested that he wasn't all that interested, just making conversation. "Must be a tough job."

"Nah, not really. I like them." She ran a gentle hand over the smooth curve of Uhei's back, the only still one among them. Good old Uhei, always the most diligent of the bunch. "Though I can't help but wonder why someone would willingly have this many pets. That's a job in itself."

"Hmm." He watched as Pakkun wiggled his tail around. What she could see of the man's face seemed kind of amused, even more so when he raised a peculiarly silver eyebrow at her. "Maybe he's a musher. You know, someone who does dog sledding."

Sakura laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of reverse cat lady."

"Also likely." He nodded sagely, sighing. "The world can be a cruel and unjust place. Perhaps their poor owner is just lonely."

"Or a weirdo." Akino licked at her wrist, which earned him a scratch behind the ears under the strap of his goggles. "Some kind of dog hoarder."

"Now, that's just not fair." He stuck a hand over the counter, which Bull stepped forward to try and paw at. "These dogs looks perfectly healthy to me."

"Someone's a little defensive," she teased at his deceptively nonchalant tone, arching a brow at him. "I take it you have ones of your own?"

"Who, me?" The man looked up at her. "I'm allergic to dogs."

She could feel her face scrunch. "Oh. That sucks."

"Tell me about it." All of a sudden he stood back up and adjusted his apron, some ratty old black thing. "Wait there for a minute. I'll get your food."

"Okay." She moved everyone to the side, then bent down to give some belly rubs to the dogs. Pakkun still hadn't exactly warmed up to her attention, but maybe he was that way with anyone he didn't know well. The rest of them were a different story—they kept nudging her with their noses or coming to lay in front of her, paws in the air.

A few kids came up asking if they could say hey to the dogs, which she allowed with the friendlier ones (read: not Shiba, who was peeing on one of the food truck's tires). By the time they went on their way, the guy was back at the window.

"Order up." He slid two paper baskets of food toward her, which she took in either hand, leashes on her forearms.

"Thank you. And thanks for the extra stuff, too." Sakura tried not to trip when the dogs all circled around her feet, eyes on the food she was carrying, which positively _glistened_ with fat. She was instantly glad most of it was going to them.

"No problem." He stared at her in a bored sort of way before he smiled at her again, those half-moons making their return. "See you around."

Since her hands were full, Sakura nodded once in polite acknowledgement, and then made her way down the street to find a bench where they could eat.

.

.

.

"Look who's late," her boss cawed when she finally walked into the acupuncture clinic over half an hour after she was supposed to arrive. The subway was too full, so she'd taken the bus, and that never ended well. "I'm glad you finally decided to show up. It's been a madhouse around here."

Sakura threw a dead look at the empty waiting room, as well as an unoccupied Hidan sitting in her chair behind the front desk, and decided he was being sarcastic. "Yeah. I'm sure you barely made it out with your life."

"Hey, what's with the attitude?" One of his hands smoothed over his slicked-back hair while the other flicked at the monitor of the desktop computer. "I don't even know how to turn this fucking thing on. I got a bunch of calls from people for appointments and I had to write 'em on my arm instead of punching them into the system."

"How resourceful of you." She took the arm he offered, turning it to look at the inside of his forearm. It took her a minute to spot the things he'd written down among all his other tattoos, and even then they were hardly legible. "Who is 'dusty old fucker'?"

"You know that dude who comes in here all the time? That asshole war veteran with all the barbwire tats on his arms?"

"Um…are you talking about Kakuzu? Your _number one customer?"_ How she'd made it through so many months at this job she'd never know.

"Whatever." He frowned and his arm, which she was still holding, moved to swipe a thumb near her mouth. Sakura instantly recoiled. "Geez, calm down, princess," he grumbled, staring at the pad of his thumb. "Blood?"

Of course that would be his first assumption. Her eyes rolled accordingly. "Ketchup."

Hidan was immediately offended. "You got snacks and didn't bring me any?!"

"It was my lunch." A hand went to her hip. "I wasn't aware I was supposed to be your errand girl now."

"Depends on what you're getting." He licked the ketchup off his thumb. "Fast food?"

"Yeah." She thought about leaving it at that, but then remembered exactly what she'd eaten. "Actually, you would probably get a kick out of where I went. There's this food truck called Giant Wieners—"

"Aw, fuck, I _love_ that place!" he yelled, even clapping once for effect. "Best goddamn chili dogs on the planet."

"You know it?" It shouldn't have surprised her, but it kind of did. If that location was where the truck normally parked then it was pretty far away from the clinic.

"Hell yeah I do. The guy who owns it used to come in here all the time, so now he gives me shit for free."

"Really?" Hidan seemed proud, probably thinking that she was impressed instead of curious. "Is he as old as he looks?"

"Are you kidding me?" He slapped a hand on the desk, staring up at her with a cocked eyebrow. "He can't be older than, like, forty at the _most_. Dude's in _insanely_ good shape. Even better than I am."

She ignored the lascivious twist of his mouth. "Huh. Interesting."

"I know. You wouldn't think that with all that gray hair he's got, but…yeah." His arms crossed over his chest, which was clad in his usual just-tight-enough-to-show-off purple t-shirt. "Actually, he used to come in for some traditional sessions—"

"I'm surprised you can remember _that_ but not someone you see four times a week," she interjected.

"Hey! I'm telling a story here!"

"Okay, okay. Go on."

Sour, he stuck his tongue out at her. " _Anyway_ , like I was saying, he used to come in here for routine TCM. You know, low key shit. So one day, out of the blue, he calls me up right before closing. And I'm like, 'hey man, what's up?' He tells me it's kind of an emergency, and I'm all like, _what the fuck?_ Here's a guy who just gets tired a lot, maybe some back pain here and there, but nothing serious, y'know?"

Apparently he wanted a response, so he paused until Sakura got the message. "Oh. Yeah, uh-huh."

"Yeah." Hidan reclined in her chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite leg, and she realized how badly she really, really wanted to sit down. "So get _this._ He comes in looking totally fine. Maybe kinda sweaty, but no limping or anything. He's carrying this thing in his arms. It's some animal with a leg that got all bent up. I'm like 'hold the fuck up, dude, I don't have a license for that veterinarian shit, I don't wanna get sued.'"

Good thinking on his part, for once. Sakura snorted, moving to sit where his feet had previously been resting on the table.

"And he's like 'oh, please, you gotta save this little guy. I'll do anything!'" Hidan's voice took on a theatrical note which almost made her laugh, though she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "So I made him sign one of those nondisclosure things, and he paid me in cash, and then I went to _town_ on that thing."

"Oh no."

His hands came up to gesticulate in front of him, ignoring her. "I'm talkin' some serious medical shit here. It was this baby Rottweiler, and apparently a delivery scooter clipped it so I had to patch his tiny-ass leg up. But I worked my magic, and an hour later the thing is back to normal, and the guy is all happy, tellin' me to come by his food truck and get whatever I want, no cost. And then he and his dogs all walk out into the sunset, and I'm a motherfuckin' hero."

There was a beat of silence where he threw his hands up, smug, before Sakura finally caught up to what he'd said.

"Hold on a second." She leaned closer to him, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. "Did you just say his _dogs?"_

"Aw, come on! Seriously?" he wailed. "You're not gonna say anything about what a badass I am? All that good karma I scored?"

"I'll—Whatever. I'll get to that in a minute. Just answer the question."

Hidan sighed as if the weight of the world was on his impeccably toned shoulders. "Yeah, that's what I said. The dude has dogs. Like, eight of them."

Sakura instantly recalled her encounter at the food truck. The uncontrollable excitement among the dogs. The banter about their owner. The free sausages. The cryptic little _see you around_ thrown in at the end. They all clicked into one big, greasy, embarrassing picture.

"Oh my God," she hissed. "That _asshole!"_

_._

_._

_._


	2. drip drop

Sakura tried not to think about it. Really, she tried. But it was so _hard_ not to, especially when Hidan had laughed at her until her face was a ripe shade of something between lobster and tomato red.

She was never one to take failure well. And while this wasn't exactly a failure, per se, it made her feel…weird. One-upped, maybe. Her new boss, the owner of all those innocent puppies, a guy she'd basically never even _met_ had one-hundred percent fucked with her, and that left a bad taste in her mouth—one that tasted suspiciously like hot dogs.

For the rest of that entire day, even through her night shift at the coffee shop, she couldn't shake it. Scenarios played in her head like a film reel. Perhaps she would text him and demand to know what his problem was, she thought, but that idea fell flat when she remembered that their only messages to each other were her _Everything went well today!_ along with details of the first day's walk, followed by his subsequent _thx_ with a puppy emoji and a thumbs-up.

She hadn't even texted him to find out when and where to get her paycheck, or to ask what his _name_ was, for God's sake. There was no way she would confront him over a message. This would have to be done in person.

Visions of her stomping up to that stupid food truck and kicking a dent into the hubcap made her feel a bit better—in fact, they made her smile. But her work schedule wouldn't allow her to make a visit during the hours it would be open for lunch _or_ dinner; and besides, she wasn't even sure the truck would be in the same place. And there was no way she could bring the dogs this time around. They'd been difficult enough to control the first time.

"Sakura," she heard someone say, and she lifted her head from where she'd been staring, likely with a lot of animosity, at the pastry display. She frowned. Those poor sponge cakes didn't deserve her wrath.

Sasuke, her most dreaded coworker, was standing beside her. _Uchiha-san,_ she was _supposed_ to call him since he was the shift manager, but big fuckin' whoop. Just because he looked ridiculously good in his black uniform apron and cap didn't give him the right to be an complete and total butthead.

"Yes?" She wanted to bat her lashes or twirl a piece of hair around her finger simply to get on his nerves, but refrained for the sake of her employment status. Dealing with him almost made her understand why Shikamaru always bothered the shit out of her. Almost.

"Are you feeling alright?"

She blinked. That was probably the very last thing she expected him to ask. Sakura looked up at his face—stone cold as usual, and annoyingly handsome—and didn't _see_ the concern, but she could have sworn she'd heard it in his question. At first blush, she was even inclined to feel oddly touched by it.

Her second instinct was to return the question. Maybe he was having a stroke.

"What's wrong? Do I look sick?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh. Okay." She tried to smile instead of scrunching her eyebrows together. It didn't really work. He just stood there, looking down at her impassively enough to make her clear her throat. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though."

"Good." Sasuke's mouth was set into a firm line. "Now that it's been established that you're able to do your job, you can get back to work instead of idly standing around."

Not a second later, Sakura felt her face flood with hot color. Before she could even formulate a response more eloquent than _fuck you,_ he'd walked off to nitpick at other things around the café. The noticeably _empty_ café. She glanced at her phone—it was only eight on a Friday night; they wouldn't get busy for at least another hour when people would come for dessert and coffee after dinner dates or karaoke, or other fun things she was starting to think she'd never have the time or energy to do.

At least not when she was working for a bunch of complete and utter jackasses.

"Ugh," she growled out loud, stomping over to the register.

"Got your panties in a wad?" Kankuro asked from beside the coffee press. He was leaning against the counter, texting with fast thumbs, his hat on backwards despite their uniform protocol, and somehow _she_ was the one getting chastised. "'Cuz I happen to be an expert in fixing that kinda situation."

"Do you think there's a way to set people on fire just by looking at them?" she asked in lieu of acknowledging his usual nastiness. Her fingernails tapped on the counter one by one as she glared across the room at Sasuke, who was taking his sweet time pushing in stray chairs under tables and readjusting the framed wall art.

"Dunno," her other least-favorite coworker snickered. "But it looks like you might spontaneously combust before you figure it out."

"I'm surprised you know what that means," she retorted, careful not to say that Kankuro had impressed her in any way. Not even jokingly. The last time she gave him a backhanded compliment saying that no, come on, he wasn't _that_ ugly, he'd taken it as flirting and tried to ask her out for no less than a month—a very long, annoying, and slightly depressing month, because there was no way the pickings were _that_ slim. Japan was by no means a small country.

"You're not the only one studying science and hypotenuses and shit." A grin spread over his wide mouth. "This about Mr. High-and-Mighty over there?"

"Are you just asking so you can talk about how much you hate him?" She busied herself with refilling the whipped cream canisters and checking to see if their chargers were full enough. "Because if that's the case, save your energy for something more productive. Like cleaning toilets."

"Hey now." In her periphery Sakura noticed him dropping his phone into the front pocket of his apron. Which meant he was actually interested in the conversation. Not usually a good thing. "Did you ever stop to think that I'm just looking out for you? My _favorite_ fellow employee?"

She didn't have to look to know that he was flashing what he seemed to think was a winning smile, one that was half serious and half full of crap. Instead she tightly screwed a steel lid onto the dispenser and moved on to another. "I stopped buying that once you took pictures of me bending over to pick up a straw. And then set them as your phone background."

Kankuro snickered. "Love might be blind, but that doesn't mean I am."

All she could manage was a rather exaggerated roll of her eyes. "What time did you say your shift ended again?"

"Same as yours." He slid down the counter to come and stand closer, leaning in with a casually conspiratorial bend to his shoulders. "Which gives us plenty of time to return to the issue at hand."

"Which is…?"

"Sasuke."

This time Sakura did glance at Kankuro, his backwards hat and brown hair, his plain but masculine face and cheshire-cat smile, and she sighed deeply. "Can't I just hate him in peace? I already have to deal with you as it is."

"Come on. I _know_ you're dying to beat his ass. Just go wild on him one time and I won't bother you again."

"Yeah, you won't, because I'll be fired." She put the carton of cream back in the fridge, knocking the door shut with her hip. "Why don't you do it? You seem like you could use an outlet for all that sexual frustration."

"First of all, fuck you. But," he started after a second of consideration, "one reason is that he would probably win, and I don't need a broken nose—it looks bad enough already. And reason two," he continued, holding up the same number of fingers in front of her, "is that it would be, like, five thousand times hotter if you did it."

She smacked his hand away and walked past him. "If you think _that's_ hot, just wait until I ignore you for the next four hours."

Kankuro stood where she left him, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a mild frown. "You know, I like you a lot better when you're PMSing."

That one made her stop. "What?"

He shrugged, tapping away at his phone's keyboard. "You're way more ruthless when you get hormonal."

Thankfully for him, a group of customers walked in at that very moment, so she didn't have the chance to turn around and clock him in that big, ugly nose to show him just how ruthless she could be.

.

.

.

"Do you think it's too early to get my tubes tied?"

Shizune nearly choked on her beer, eyes wide. "Where'd that come from?"

Sakura pushed her bangs back from her forehead, likely sending the short pieces into a stiff frenzy. "I'm trying to ensure that I never procreate. Not with a man, at least."

With no subtle amount of unease, Shizune put her glass down, which clinked as it tapped the edges of some serving plates. "You're not dating someone, are you?"

"No, thank God." She shoved a piece of chicken karaage in her mouth, chewed it, and washed it down with some of her own beer. It was hard not to be in a pissy mood today—between Sasuke and Kankuro last night, the absence of the dog's owner this morning, and Shikamaru stealing the rest of her strawberry daifuku and sanity, she wasn't sure she could deal with another guy unless it meant knocking his teeth out. Meeting her cousin at the izakaya down the street from her apartment had been an excellent idea. Two beers in and she was already feeling a little better.

"Hmm." Sakura could hear the quiet, relieved chuckle from across the table. "You're not missing out on anything. Trust me. Men are the worst, and they do not get better with age."

"I know." And she did, not just from her own experiences. Shizune's romantic life was not for the faint of heart—and her sex life, with what details she'd gathered from her cousin's half-past-tipsy rants, was monumentally awful. Unfortunately the guys all kept coming back, too, texting her and trying mostly unsuccessfully to woo her into on-again-off-again relationships. Sakura couldn't blame them, really. They knew a good thing when they saw one. Shizune was a catch: pretty, caring, and always put-together.

"You-know-who is _still_ calling me, by the way. I'd block his number, but I don't know if it's worth the effort."

A pink eyebrow raised toward her hairline as she watched Shizune work on an edamame pod. "Don't you even start on that."

"What?" she asked, clearly knowing the answer and already curling in on herself.

"Last time you said the same thing," Sakura said, pointing her chopsticks accusingly, "and then you took him back for two months where all you did was complain about him falling asleep on you after you had sex. And then he made out with that girl at your office Christmas party—the one _you_ invited him to!"

"I remember," Shizune grumbled, stuffing another pod past her lips. "But cut me some slack here. It's hard not to get lonely, you know?" Her voice took on a whiny quality, lips puckered from salt. "Especially when the only guys that want to be with you are total shitbags."

"That is not _even_ true, Shizune. You just…stick with what's familiar. Maybe it's time to branch out."

Though it came out more as a question than a piece of advice, her cousin took the bait, perking up noticeably. "I know; you're right. I just—ugh."

"Come on. Time to block that dumb fucker's number." Sakura made grabby hands across the table, into which Shizune hesitantly placed her phone. "I swear, just from doing this, you'll feel about fifty times better. All your bills will get paid on time and your skin will be clearer than ever. Or something."

"I'll drink to that." Both of them raised their glasses, only to find them a centimeter or two away from empty, and they looked at each other with wide, wicked grins.

"Two bottles of sake, please!" they called simultaneously to the lady behind the counter, then downed the last of their beers.

.

.

.

"Shit, shit, shit, _shit, shit, shit, shit."_

One curse for each second she spent sliding on shorts beneath her pajama t-shirt. One for each stair up the subway station exit. One for each block on the way to the dog house. Despite having a _three hour window_ to walk them, Sakura was late. Not to mention one thousand percent hungover.

She silently rejoiced at the fact that there was no car—or obscene food truck, as the case was—when she arrived at the foot of the driveway. While she'd wanted to rip the owner a new one for making her feel like an idiot, she didn't want him to think her anything less than punctual or good at the job he'd hired her for. Considering how little she remembered from last night, she'd probably humiliated herself enough for a good long while.

The second she approached the door, she frantically tried the knob, then remembered she had to actually unlock it first. She reached into the side pocket of her purse where she usually kept the key, only to find it empty.

Her stomach dropped. _Shit._

The rest of her bag was void of any key but her spare apartment key. In her haste, she hadn't even brought her goddamned key ring with her. The pockets of her shorts were empty too. _Shit!_

A hand flew down the collar of her t-shirt to see if maybe she'd thought to throw it in her bra—it was possible, after all—and that was when the door swung open.

One hand down her shirt and beneath her boob, Sakura looked up to find a man standing in the doorway before her. The food truck guy-slash-dogs' owner.

_Shit indeed._

"Um," she said plainly, blinking at him with wide eyes.

"'Um' yourself," the man replied, his eyelids crinkling amiably. Curiously enough, he was still wearing one of those medical masks, even in his own house. The dogs calmly stood at his feet looking at her with equally smiley expressions. Well, except for Pakkun, who never looked happy, and Urushi, who was kind of a dick anyway.

"I'm—um…" She finally removed her hand from her bra, letting it flop down to her side and hide behind her back. "I forgot my key."

"So I figured." His voice wasn't condescending, but she still felt her face heat up in shame. "Want to come in?"

"Sure," came the automatic response. It was less out of politeness and more out of a need to sit down. Panicked sprinting and hangovers weren't exactly a good combination, especially not when embarrassment made its way into the mix.

Sakura followed him inside, where she immediately smelled food. Something was cooking—it was a rare experience in her own household, but a welcome one now, even if her stomach rolled a little at the scent of melted butter. As the man walked in front of her, she noticed he was holding a spatula, one that Guruko and Bisuke were taking turns attempting to jump up and lick.

They went to the kitchen, which was as plain an affair as the other days she'd seen it: white walls, big shiny black refrigerator, wooden countertops, big deep sink. There was a breakfast bar which separated it from the remarkably empty living room, as well as a wood-topped island in the middle. It was a large, clean space with high ceilings, open to the second floor, but there was little to no decoration save for a peppering of indoor plants throughout.

He took his place at the stove where something sizzled away in a skillet, so Sakura decided to park herself at one of the stools behind the bar.

"Hungry?" With a flick of his wrist, he flipped something that looked like a grilled cheese, then pushed it around with the spatula before heading to the fridge.

"I'm fine, thank you." Her stomach curled again at the thought of melted cheese. _No thanks and goodbye._ She looked up from where she'd momentarily cradled her head in her palms to find him placing a bottle of sports drink in front of her.

"You look like you could use a frog in the hole, if you ask me."

Sakura blinked at the bored expression in his dark eyes, then sputtered out an "Ex _cuse_ me?"

"You—have you never heard of a frog in the hole?" From what she could see, he was genuinely perplexed. His head even cocked a little to the side like his dogs were prone to do. "Toast with an egg in the middle?"

"Oh." Her face flushed even more. She was really on a roll here with this whole show-him-who's-boss deal. The man didn't wait for her to say anything else; he walked toward the cabinet to grab a plate. The contents of the skillet—a _frog in the hole;_ surprise, surprise—slid easily onto its surface.

He put the plate in front of her along with a fork, smiling with his eyes. "Best hangover cure I've found yet."

 _God damnit._ The nail in the coffin. There was no way she looked _that_ bad.

"What," she mumbled irritatedly, staring at the perfectly-browned bread in front of her, "chili dogs aren't on the menu today?"

"'Fraid not," he answered without missing a beat. "Truck's in the shop."

Ah, so that was why he was home on a Sunday. She'd figured it was just because she was past the noon curfew.

"I guess it's a good thing you were here." Fork in hand, she poked at the salted egg yolk to find it perfectly soft and runny. Her lips pressed together, not sure if she was hungry or repulsed in her current state. "I can't believe I forgot my key. I can promise you that never happens."

"Don't worry about it." He waved a dismissive hand at her as he swirled a pat of butter around the pan. "I was surprised you came in the first place."

"I'm never _late,_ either," she said, reaching for the sports drink with a tense hand. The bottle was nice and cold under her fingers; the drink was cool and crisp on her tongue and throat. "Today's just…weird."

"Mm." She watched as he used a circle cutter to make a hole in the bread, then tossed the slice and its middle into the pan. Even for a simple thing, he did each step with such skilled ease. He reached for an egg in the open carton just as her phone buzzed in her purse.

 _You're out of potato sticks. And bananas,_ read the text from Shikamaru.

She was tempted to turn off the screen and shove the phone back in its rightful place, but then she saw in the top corner that there were other unread messages. The first was from Shizune, some keyboard smash she'd clearly butt-typed in the taxi home last night, and the second was from _Giant Dickwad_ —something Sakura had so cleverly riffed off the name of the man's business.

_u dont have 2 walk pups this a.m. c u wednesday_

The text was punctuated by emojis of a dog and a waving hand. Her own hand reached up to smack her steadily aching forehead.

"Aspirin's in the cabinet by the fridge," the guy drawled, sprinkling salt and pepper into the pan.

"I literally just saw your text."

"Oh." She thought he might be smiling beneath the mask. "I was wondering when you'd read it."

Her next sip went down with a scowl. "You know, I'm starting to think that you really get off on messing with people."

"Now, what gave you that idea?" His voice was deep, borderline monotone, and he didn't so much as spare her a glance as he poked around at his toast. It all pissed her off even more, her anger from stewing in embarrassment the last two days now back at full throttle.

"Well, first of all, you lied to me about not owning dogs." Perhaps she was overstepping her boundaries, but he didn't seem too concerned with maintaining a standard boss-employee relationship.

"I didn't say I don't own dogs." He flicked his wrist again, flipping the piece of bread expertly. "I just said I was allergic."

"How am I supposed to believe that when you have eight dogs?" About half of them were scurrying around the kitchen, either trying to get some of her food or some of his. "Not one or two. _Eight."_

"Ah, you can count. I knew I hired you for a reason."

Sakura had to pinch the bridge of her nose to keep from marching over there and smacking the crap out of him.

"Cabinet by the fridge."

Murmuring sharp words under her breath, she leapt off the stool, socks gliding over the flooring as she stomped over to said cabinet, and yanked it open to find a clear bottle of white aspirin tablets she was starting to desperately need.

As well as two entire shelves full of antihistamines, nasal sprays, and even _prednisone,_ for fuck's sake. No wonder he wore that stupid mask. She felt her eyebrow twitching when she turned to glare at him.

He wasn't even paying attention.

"Okay, you win that round." Sakura's arms crossed over her chest. "But I still don't get it. Why didn't you just tell me who you were when you saw me at the truck?"

"Well," he began in a light tone, pulling another fork from a cup on the counter, "you may not know this, but I'm a very famous man. I need to protect my privacy." He grinned at her again, seemingly innocuous.

"You're ridiculous."

"Maybe." He turned off the stove and stabbed his fork into the center circle of toast. "But most people call me Kakashi."

Sakura was going to respond with some snarky comment about his parents' shitty sense of humor—because really, who named their kid after a _scarecrow_ , and he definitely looked like one with his patchy black sweater and stained jeans and messy old man hair—but then he pulled down his mask to take a bite of his toast, and oh boy.

Oh _man._

He may have looked like a scarecrow, but he was superbly attractive. Not in the conventional way—there was a sleepiness to his half-open eyes, a lazy curve to his mouth, a little bit of crookedness to his bottom teeth—but…still. Sakura suddenly felt herself beginning to swoon.

Kakashi raised a casually expectant eyebrow at her.

"Oh, uh." She struggled to collect herself for a solid moment. "I'm Sakura," she finally managed.

"I know," he said, a lilt in his tone. "I was asking if you were finished eating."

"Uh, no?" She was distracted, trying to remind herself that she was mad at him for pulling her leg. "I didn't really eat anything."

"Well, once you're done, come out back." Kakashi whistled, calling the dogs to his side, and walked toward the sliding glass door in the living room, breakfast in hand. "I've got something for you."

Suspicious and thoroughly intrigued, not to mention hoping it was her paycheck, Sakura popped a couple aspirin in her mouth and followed him to the backyard, food neglected on the countertop.

.

.

.

"Alright." Water rushed over her feet, cool between her toes. "You win again. This is definitely a…surprise."

"I'm full of those, or so I'm told," he practically hummed, lathering up suds in Shiba's wet fur.

Sakura narrowed her eyes, tossing the haphazardly-folded towel from hand to hand. She couldn't quite argue with that. "I didn't say it was a good one."

"Well, I'm full of those too." Bull nudged at his back, earning him a soapy pat between the ears before Kakashi returned to his current efforts. "But for the record, I did give you the easy job."

"How generous of you."

"I could say the same for you, offering to help this poor old…what was it you said? Reverse cat lady?"

She couldn't resist a snort at his monotone attempt at a sing-songy tone. Or the fact that her participation in washing the pups had been his idea first.

"I only agreed because I was curious."

"Hm." He grabbed the hose off the porch, taking it from the puddle it was creating on the concrete surface, and sprayed it on an overeager Shiba. A few of the other dogs tried to join in, too, but Kakashi just tutted at them until they reluctantly stood in the sidelines.

"You're not going to ask what I'm curious about?" Sakura teased, testing the waters. She was interested in what this guy was about, sure, and she knew _how_ to get the answers she was looking for—just not what they would be.

"You seem like a pretty direct person. Figured I'd save the effort and wait for you to tell me." He whistled once, sharply. "Shiba." Then he pointed at Sakura, and the dog dutifully sprinted over, shaking himself free of about a gallon of water.

"Thanks, asshole," she practically growled at the dog. She didn't give a shit that it had gotten on her clothes, but her eyes were a different story. She kind of needed those. Shiba squirmed around none the wiser while she dried him off. "Okay then, first things first: why do you have so many dogs?"

Kakashi didn't say anything for a few seconds; he was too busy trying to get Akino near the water. "Come on, buddy." He even crouched down, patting the ground, and after a minute Akino finally came to him. In the meantime, Shiba had dashed away from Sakura, going to lounge by the big fan Kakashi had set up in the corner of the porch.

He poured a different kind of shampoo onto Akino's back, one that smelled vaguely medicinal. This time he used much slower, easier motions, and the dog relaxed a little.

"Hmm," he continued with the utmost nonchalance, "I just like dogs."

When he didn't elaborate, Sakura just stood there while Bull came to lick at her bare feet. "That's it?"

Kakashi shrugged. Apparently that _was_ it.

"…If you say so." She tucked half-damp hair behind her ears. She could _feel_ how bad it would look once it dried. "What about the food truck, then? That has to have a better story behind it."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, sounding no less than completely disinterested.

"I dunno. It just seems like a pretty important life decision to me. Did you just wake up one morning like 'Oh, huh, I think I'm going to run a food truck'?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Sakura watched as he carefully rinsed off Akino's belly. She could feel her curiosity mounting the same way it did when she was learning something good during labs. "Did you go to culinary school?"

He moved on to the dog's back, letting the soapy water drip down and soak into the floor. "Nope."

"Did you even go to college?" she blurted before she could stop herself. Fortunately for her, he didn't seem to care that she'd asked.

"Yeah."

She narrowed her eyes. "What'd you major in? Shitty conversationalism?"

"Close." At that, she could have sworn she got a smile out of him—but since he'd hardly looked her way since she got outside, she couldn't be sure. "Actually, I got a degree in, uh…what do you call it, uh…"

Sakura waited—kind of impatiently, of course—for him to remember, but who the hell _forgot what they majored in?_

"Oh. Yeah. Astrophysics."

And if he hadn't surprised her before, he had now.

"Astrophysics," she repeated as if he'd just told her his dogs were sentient balloon animals.

"Mhmm." Kakashi patted a thoroughly rinsed Akino on the butt, directing him toward Sakura. "Careful with him. Just lightly pat him dry."

"You've got to be shitting me."

"Mah, give him a break. He's a sensitive young man. The heat's making his eczema act up." Kakashi simply tapped the ground again, summoning Uhei to stand in the puddle before him. The hose was still running, sending water down the porch and onto Sakura's feet, even after she'd moved to dry Akino off.

"Um, I was talking about the _astrophysics."_ She kind of forgot to keep drying, which meant the dog decided to go ahead and take his rightful place in front of the standing fan. Even from where she was, the fan blew steadily on her legs, cutting through the heat and humidity effortlessly. "You don't _really_ expect me to believe that."

"You don't have to," he said with a shrug, "but it's true."

She stood there until he finally looked at her, dark eyes bored but a little weary, then he sighed beneath his mask. In a speed that rivaled Shikamaru, Kakashi stood from his crouch, glancing down at Uhei with a sleepy expression.

"Stay," he gently commanded before walking toward a few plastic buckets at the side of the porch, ones full of random things like dog toys, hammers, folded up tarp, old grocery bags. Sakura recalled her original worry from her first day of work—Yamato may not have been a murderer, but Kakashi was a lot stranger, and with all that shit over there easily within reach…

A dog toy squeaked, and her knees twitched. He rummaged through for long enough that she almost asked what the hell he was doing—but then he procured a piece of paper from the bottom of a dusty pail, letting some old rags and napkins fall onto the ground. He smoothed the crumpled page out against his jeans and proceeded to send it over to her like a frisbee.

Sakura barely caught it, but thankfully managed to before it sailed straight to the wet ground. It was a thick kind of paper, the nice kind, even if it was wrinkled to high hell—but the text on it was in English, which took her a second to process, especially since it was in such elaborate font.

"Massa…chussetts…" she sounded out, trying to remember where she'd heard that before. And then it clicked. "Is this…you graduated from fucking _MIT?!"_

Kakashi went back to washing Uhei like he'd never stopped in the first place. "They normally don't put the 'fucking' in front of it, but yeah."

There was no way. There was literally no way this weirdo hot dog vendor, this oddball dog collector with a business called _Giant Wieners,_ graduated from one of the best schools in the world. One which required him to be an actual _genius_. Almost on instinct alone, Sakura slung the towel onto the back of a porch chair, then dashed back inside the house to grab her phone from her purse.

The diploma sat on the counter while she opened the internet app. She looked at it to read his full name—Kakashi Hatake, which in Japanese would be Hatake Kakashi, unless Kakashi was his family name…whatever. Since there was likely nobody else with that ridiculous name, any combination would surely bring up the results she was looking for.

It took maybe two seconds to load. The search _hatake kakashi mit graduate_ procured a list of members in his graduating class—which was about fifteen years earlier, and would make him about thirty-seven if her calculations were correct—so astoundingly enough, he wasn't making the whole thing up.

But it also brought up a whole other list of articles, ones which came from worldwide news sources.

_MIT Student Takes Huge Steps Toward Fusion Technology._

_Japanese College Student Discovers Exciting New Prospects for Rocket Engineering._

_Student's Theory for Fusion Engines Launches New Age for NASA._

Sakura clicked on one link to find an article full of diagrams of different rockets, followed by huge blocks of texts she could only skim through. _Quantum physics…high-density plasma…toroid…containment time…newly patented technology…as theorized by Hatake Kakashi._ She stopped there, finding a picture of a bored guy with dark hair and equally dark circles beneath his eyes, though devastatingly good-looking despite his lack of enthusiasm. It was Kakashi, alright—though she wondered when his hair had gone gray.

Not that it was important at the moment, because what the _fuck._

"Sakura," Kakashi called through the open door. "You're letting all my cold air out."

"Uh, I think you can afford it, Mr. Big Shot." She went outside anyway, abandoning the lovely indoors for the sticky summer weather again. "Seriously, what the hell are you?!"

This particularly amused him—she even heard him chuckle over the sound of the dogs panting, the hose running, and a passing car at the front of the house.

"Glad to know I've been reduced to a 'what,' not a 'who.'"

"No, really," she whined, sliding the door closed and stomping over to show him the article. "What the hell is this?"

"Oh, yeah." He chuckled again, dark eyes flitting over the screen. "I think I remember that."

"…You think you remember inventing something for _NASA?"_ She could feel her shirt clinging to her, uncomfortably so, which did nothing to help her ever-mounting frustration. Something was entertaining him and she had the distinct feeling it was her.

"Sure I do. I meant getting that picture taken."

Sakura frowned at his eye smile. "Oh."

"Anyway, it wasn't _for_ them, technically." A slightly sudsy Uhei licked Kakashi on the cheek, right above the top of his mask. "My professor told me to get my designs patented, so I did. And then NASA bought them from me."

"So…what? You're an international prodigy who…who grew up to be some kind of phallus-obsessed food vendor?" Somehow this was all true, but she could hardly even begin to reconcile the man sitting in front of her with someone brilliant enough to do literal rocket science.

"What's wrong with phalluses?" he asked as if reading her thoughts—and if she wasn't mistaken, there was an oddly flirtatious note to it that earned him a push to his shoulder. It would have been far more satisfying if it'd actually set him off balance, but for some reason that wasn't bothering her as much as it normally would have.

"I—ugh."

"Look," he said with evident humor, casually setting down the hose now that Uhei was thoroughly rinsed. "As long as you help me get these dogs clean, I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Sakura considered this, a hand on her hip, a foot tapping a slow beat in a shallow puddle.

"Deal."

She sauntered over to grab her towel, satisfied because he'd finally agreed to talk, more easily than she would have expected, and she was looking forward to getting a peek behind _this_ curtain.

But as seemed to be the usual with Kakashi, her dignity was thwarted in one fell swoop: not even two seconds after she'd turned around, she found herself completely doused in cold water—her hair, her back, her ass, her clothes, her legs and feet, _everything_ was soaked, and it shocked her so much that she couldn't help but shriek out loud.

"What—" She whipped around, water dripping into her eyes and running far too quickly into her bra and underwear. "What was that for?!"

Her accusation was directed straight at Kakashi, but he wasn't looking at her—instead he was staring owl-eyed at Urushi, who was standing there with the hose in his mouth, water spraying with more force on the side where his teeth dug into the cord.

"Uh," declared Kakashi, scratching at the back of his head as his attention swiveled from her to the dog and back again. "I think we're gonna need another towel."

.

.

.

This might've been the quickest a guy had ever gotten Sakura wet and out of her clothes, she thought with a derisive snort. Too bad it was only leading to her changing into dry ones.

Kakashi had ushered her up to his room to change and then left her to her own devices, which made her wonder how he treated his usual female guests. Then she reminded herself that she wasn't a _female guest,_ no matter how tempting a concept that was starting to become; she was simply a girl who worked for him, one who had somehow been roped into…sort of…hanging out.

To say today was weird would be an understatement. She'd expected things to go more smoothly in her favor, of course, and she hadn't expected Kakashi to be this odd. _Good_ odd. The kind of odd that was complex enough to intrigue her. And she certainly hadn't expected that despite how totally fucking frustrating it was to squeeze a _word_ out of him, not to mention how much he obviously enjoyed getting on her nerves, she actually didn't hate being around him.

She considered this as she carefully rummaged through his drawers, finding a large gray t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts with a drawstring. They smelled nice, clean from a crisply scented detergent, and thankfully lacked the faint smell of canine that had soaked into all his other belongings. The clothes _drowned_ her, even though they threatened to stick to her cold, still-damp skin, but that probably wasn't a bad thing given her current lack of undergarments.

 _God._ One of these days she'd get back at that little shit of a dog.

She closed the drawer, surprisingly neat among an equally tidy room; like the rest of the house it was quite minimally decorated. There was a decently sized bed against one wall, the comforter some well-loved quilt folded haphazardly at the foot of the mattress. As with the downstairs living area there were several house plants residing in plain pots, some of which were chipped or cracked in oddly charming ways. The lamps were all mismatched, the curtains were too feminine against the rest of the room, and the only other decorations were stacks of books and a few picture frames on the tables' surfaces.

"Ooh," she cooed to herself, tiptoeing closer to the pictures situated above the dresser, resisting the urge to straighten them where they hung crookedly.

There were several pictures of dogs, which she soon realized to be of the eight he had now when they were puppies. All of them were happy little moments, she could tell; the dogs were wagging their tongues happily or gazing into the camera with sweet eyes. Sakura would never admit how much that made her heart clench and subsequently swell, not when Urushi's was arguably the most precious picture of all.

Passing by a questionable, flashy-looking stack of novels beside the dresser, Sakura went straight for the infinitely more interesting picture by the bedside, picking up the simple silver frame and wiping off dust with the hem of her borrowed shirt.

In the picture a man and woman stood together with a baby held between them, one she could only presume was Kakashi, especially when she took in the handsome features of the father and the crooked, welcoming smile of the mother. Baby Kakashi was adorable, too, but the sight was rather unremarkable compared to what she'd seen during their impromptu psuedo-brunch earlier.

Then there was another picture on the nightstand that she grabbed without even thinking, one of three people in what looked like the backseat of a car. The first person was a dark haired guy, asleep with his head in the lap of the girl in the middle. She was pretty—like, _breathtakingly_ pretty, the kind of beautiful that belonged in fairy tale movies more than real life—with chocolate brown hair and eyes. Her hand was placed affectionately against the sleeping one's cheek, but her head rested against the shoulder of the man on the other side of her, another dark haired guy, undeniably attractive with a cigarette dangling between his teeth.

Kakashi.

She took in the way his hair was more of a dark gray here than the black she'd seen in the news article, how his arm rested closely behind the woman's head, how they both looked out the window in the exact same direction, how her cheek rested against his chest. It looked like something out of an editorial. Sakura's eyebrow raised toward her hairline as she absorbed all the details, then dropped when she felt a peculiar little whirl somewhere beneath her ribs.

_Shit._

"Nice picture, huh?"

 _Double shit._ She nearly dropped the frame at the sound of Kakashi's voice behind her. "Did it ever occur to you to knock?"

He shrugged, an action she felt more than saw. "Figured you'd be decent by now."

When he reached over her shoulder to pluck the picture from her hand, she felt his chest brush against her back, and Hidan's praises about the shape Kakashi was in came to mind. _Oh man._

"What kind of questions might you have about this, I wonder?" His voice was low near her ear and it did strange things to her insides, lighting them up in ways that instantly had her remembering she wasn't wearing any underwear. _Oh man, oh man, oh man._

She turned around to face him, arms crossed, as if that would prevent her thoughts from derailing and landing in her mouth. "You don't still smoke, do you? 'Cause with those allergies, you'd pretty much be suffocating yourself."

"Eh, sometimes. Don't really keep track." His eyes were off to the side, staring at the frame in his hand. "One of my friends smokes like a chimney, so I occasionally nab one if the mood strikes."

Sakura snorted at his phrasing. "Which friend? One of those two?"

She watched for any telltale changes in his expression, pretending like she wasn't looking for something specific and pretending like she didn't already know he was the most subtle person on planet Earth. But there was nothing there to lend even a clue.

"Not them. Too nice."

Damnit. She wanted to pry so, so badly, but something about the photo and his stance told her she shouldn't. "Is it that guy Yamato?"

"Nope," Kakashi said flatly, though judging by his expression the question had amused him. "Not Yamato. He's too…old-fashioned."

The vision of Yamato's cargo shorts and sandals came to mind, and she laughed. "I kind of got that impression, actually."

"Really now?" He finally looked at her, and okay, he was really close, almost _too_ close when he faced her fully, and he didn't even seem to realize it. She blinked. "I'll tell him you said so."

"Okay," she half-breathed, and then scrambled to collect herself. "I—wait, no, don't do that. He was nice to me, which says a lot considering how much of your crap he probably puts up with."

"I'm flattered." His head cocked to the side just slightly, sleepy eyes staring down at her. "Is that your impression of me?"

Surely he was messing with her. He'd been doing it all afternoon, for God's sake, and she wasn't _about_ to give in. Nor would she acknowledge how hot and fizzy she was getting from his proximity, or how she kind of wished she could peel his mask off with her eyes alone, or how the way he smelled, all clean from face wash and grassy and warm, was dangerously close to turning her on.

She cleared her throat in the most dignified way possible. "Whatever. I'm gonna go put my stuff in the dryer." And then, just to be the polite and gracious guest-slash-employee she was: "Anything you want me to throw in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Kakashi mumbled, and then everything went south. Literally.

It wasn't just the fact that he leaned against her when he replaced the picture frame on the nightstand, or that his arm brushed against hers for a good second. It wasn't just that he removed his sweater right in front of her or that he wore a more fitted t-shirt underneath it, one that stuck to him at the waist and made her die a little on the inside. It wasn't just that when his arms stretched to remove that old-ass sweater, his shirt revealed more than she'd bargained for, further proving Hidan's testimony.

It was more to do with the slightly shy way took off the stupid thing, how he attempted to fold it kinda-sorta when he handed it to her. And it probably had the most to do with his face mask pulling off with it, swaying from one ear like the white flag her brain was currently waving at her ovaries.

He glanced up at her questioningly, probably wondering why she was standing there like an idiot, and that was when she launched at him.

Her mouth landed on his in a nanosecond; her hands ran up his shoulders and neck and into his hair like it was the last thing she'd ever do. For a few seconds, it felt good—his mouth was soft and hot, and his hair was wonderfully silky thick between her fingers—but then everything fell flat when she realized he wasn't really kissing back.

She leaned backward, loosening her death grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, praying the heat in her hips and stomach and chest wouldn't make its way to her face. _What the fuck was that?!_

Kakashi blinked down at her, and for a second all she could think was that yes, _finally_ she'd gotten a reaction out of him, even if it was the most embarrassing thing to happen to her all day—or week, or year, or maybe even century. But she wasn't counting.

"Sakura?" he asked, his voice a little strangled, eyes wide.

"Um…" Sakura bit her lip, likely in a similar state. "That was…an accident."

"Oh." It was his turn to clear his throat now. She could feel tension radiating from his spine and filling the inch between them. "Uh, did you…do you want to…do it on purpose?"

"Maybe?" she practically panted, feeling her chest break out in a tremendous wave of goosebumps. "Okay, yeah. I think I do."

He stood there for a moment, and she threw herself at him again, this time finding his mouth ready and pliant against hers, his hands running into her hair and over the shirt of his she was wearing. She did the same to him, pulling at his hair hard enough to draw a sound from the back of his throat that she felt in her knees. It wasn't long before her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs coiled around his waist, and then she went at him like a dog in heat, and she couldn't even _begin_ to keep track of what they were doing to each other.

By the time they fell onto the bed, her straddling him and both of them gasping for air, it was safe to say there was no thinking left to do at all.

.

.

.


	3. chit chat

"One more piece of popcorn in my bra and I'm cutting your balls off."

Shikamaru gave Sakura a somewhat displeased grimace, considering this, before tossing another half-popped kernel over her v-neck collar and into her cleavage. She just stared at him while sucking at the inside of her cheeks. She could get in, oh, maybe four punches before someone called security.

"Sakura, don't," Ino commanded from between them, reaching with exquisitely manicured fingers to pluck each piece from her shirt. "I've been waiting to see this movie for months, and you two are _not_ going to ruin it for me."

"Tell that to him," Sakura grumbled, letting Ino shove the crumbled popcorn into her mouth to angrily snack on. "He started it with his weird little game of basketboob."

"Okay, yeah, seriously," Ino challenged, suddenly switching gears, "why _her_ boobs? Mine are at least a full cup size bigger."

"Let me remind you that the last time I got food within five inches of your clothes, you cut all of my sweatpants into short shorts."

"Good point." Ino poked his cheek, which was funny because he hated when she did that. "Best Christmas present I ever gave." The teenagers in the row behind them started cracking up at his expense, which made Ino's peachy pink lips curve right into a satisfied grin.

She and Shikamaru continued their back-and-forth all throughout the commercials and the first few previews, wherein Sakura's mind wandered back to where it had been since Sunday…

And then another piece of popcorn landed on her boob.

"I'm going to fucking murder you," she said, making sure Shikamaru heard her, then turned around to the kids behind them. "Did you guys hear that? I want everyone to know I did it."

Ino took one look at their wide, slightly terrified eyes, as well as the other people in the theater who had turned to look on, and started snorting in a very unpretty way. Shikamaru, as usual, looked completely unfazed.

"Quit spacing out," he said plainly. "You never do that. It's freaking me out."

"I was watching the previews!" Sakura insisted, praying the low light of the theater wouldn't give away the shades of pink surely evident on her cheeks. Someone from a few rows up shushed them but she was defending herself, damnit, and that was more important than some shitty trailer for another shitty zombie movie.

"Yeah, alright." He slowly chewed a mouthful of red licorice. "How are you gonna explain the last few days though?"

"I—" Sakura tried not to huff out loud. "I was busy with work."

Ino turned on her now, a shapely brow arched to perfection. "You're not overworking yourself, are you?" she asked with that pressuring _I'm gonna tell your mommy_ voice, the one that Sakura _despised_ because it made her feel like she was around her aunt Tsunade, the woman who kind of was her mom—the woman who, if she got even a whiff of this conversation, would kick Sakura's ass into next year. Despite the fact that she didn't exactly lead one herself, Tsunade preached a balanced lifestyle, especially when hard work was at the forefront.

"No, I'm not." Sakura glared at Shikamaru. That fucker knew what he was doing getting Ino involved—he'd get whatever information he wanted without doing any of the work. There was no _way_ he was getting anything out of Sakura now.

"You say that," he continued with the utmost blasé attitude, "but you only kicked me out of your place one time this week."

"So? Maybe I was in a good mood." It was weak, she knew, but entirely possible.

"You let me borrow your socks and eat all your watermelon popsicles without complaining."

Someone shushed them again, but Sakura had stopped caring by now. "Weren't those expired?"

"Seriously, Sakura," Ino interrupted in a half-whisper, arms crossed over her chest. "Are you working too much? That's gonna ruin your skin, you know."

"Yeah, and the rest of your body," Shikamaru said, only leveling Sakura with a dry stare when she opened her mouth to stop him. "When you came home on Sunday, you were on your hands and knees, climbing up the stairs because you couldn't walk."

Her entire upper body went red hot. Ino smacked her on the arm, apparently completely scandalized.

"Is it that rude motherfucker? Sasuke? Is he scheduling you too much? Because I'll have a word with him."

She scoffed, voice nearly an octave higher than before. "You just want to fuck him."

"Yes, I do," Ino sighed dreamily, and Sakura mentally patted herself on the back. Deflecting was always a good strategy. "He's gay as hell, though, so I only have half a chance."

"Wait, what? How do you know that?" Sakura was about to question her judgment even further—and what did _half_ mean?—when Shikamaru entered the conversation again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he mused around another mouthful of candy, "but you haven't worked any night this week, and you came home two hours earlier than usual on Sunday."

"Sounds like someone's nosy, lazy ass is home too much for their own good," Sakura mocked, leaning over Ino to get in his face a little. "You know, I think this is the most I've ever heard you talk."

But Ino shoved her back by the shoulder, glaring incredulously. "Holy shit, Sakura, did you get _fired?"_

 _"No,"_ she growled, trying not to scream for the sake of the ten bucks she'd dropped on this movie ticket. "But I love that that's your first assumption."

Ino ignored the eye roll she was so generously being served. "Then what the hell?"

"I, uh, have the week off." It was pretty much true, anyway, considering her schedule—or lack thereof. Since she hadn't shown up Sunday and had barely managed to get an emergency fill-in in her stead, Sasuke was punishing her by not scheduling her until the following weekend. If she hadn't been so diligent and punctual until now, he probably would have fired her without any sort of notice. Prick.

"Why? That's so random."

Sakura stuffed a humongous handful of gummy worms into her mouth. "Uh…fuh ftore iff….clofed."

Unluckily for her, Ino actually understood her, as she usually did. "Not true, bitch. I went there yesterday for a skinny vanilla latte!"

This time, a grand total of three people shushed them. The theater was darkening, the lights dimming quickly, and the screen was void of anything for a good few seconds.

"The movie's starting," Sakura dodged, settling into her seat and attempting to swallow her candy in safe increments.

"Oh, nuh-uh, no ma'am. You are not escaping that easily." Ino glared at her, accenting the wing in her eyeliner. "First of all, why aren't you working there this week? You _never_ take time off. You didn't even come on my birthday ski trip in Hokkaido—even though I offered to pay for it, I might add—because you were working."

"I had finals the next week," Sakura whispered back defensively.

"Irrelevant right now. Answer the question."

"I—ugh! I got busy Sunday, and I missed, so my boss didn't schedule me this week, okay?" The opening credits of the movie, all stylized English, were swishing and glittering across the screen; some dark, romantic piece of the score began to play, and she felt the pressure of wrapping up the conversation. Part of it was her not wanting Ino and Shikamaru to know what she'd been doing on Sunday—she was still having trouble accepting it herself—and another part of it was wanting to watch the goddamn movie. Ino wasn't the only one who loved crappy vampire love stories.

Not to mention that Sakura really needed the distraction from everything else.

"What the fuck? You _missed work?"_ Ino's voice was threatening to go above a whisper. Sakura coiled in on herself. "Did you…I mean, like, did you get robbed or something? Or get shanked? Is that why you couldn't walk?"

At least her instinct was to assume it wasn't actually Sakura's fault. That had to say something positive, at least. "Ino, stop. I'll tell you after the movie."

"Oh, come on, just say it. Then we can shut up and watch." Her hands were on Sakura's arm, pulling it back and forth in pleading motions.

"Oh my _God,"_ Sakura hissed. "I was helping my boss. The guy whose dogs I walk. I lost track of time. The end."

"You 'lost track of time'?" Ino asked with an skeptical laugh. "What the hell does that mean? It makes it sound like you hooked up with him or something."

When Sakura, who was scrambling to gather another excuse, didn't immediately deny it, Ino gasped hard enough to pop a lung.

"You did _not_ ," she stated, awed, like Sakura had won the lottery or found the cure for cancer. "Oh my God, I was _kidding!_ You dirty bitch!"

This time Sakura shushed her. "Can we talk about this later?!"

"You had sex with your boss!" she squealed, singing the words at what seemed like the top of her lungs. "Oh, _this_ is one for the books. Shikamaru, please tell me you're hearing this. Sakura _fucked her boss."_

"Uh-huh, I'm hearing it," he said, and Sakura leaned forward to glare daggers at his smug face. Which was strangely visible in the dark. And had a really bright backlight. She glanced up to find a shadowed figure standing at the end of the aisle, flashlight in hand, silver name tag gleaming in the half-brightness.

"So is everyone else in this theater," the theater guy mumbled, unamused. The movie was still playing, the female lead walking through a forest with lots of breathy sound effects. "I'm gonna have to ask you three to be quiet, or to leave."

Ino leaned forward to grab her purse, then tossed Sakura hers, before dragging her and Shikamaru up by the wrists. He groaned in protest, looking like a ragdoll as he got to his feet.

"We'll see ourselves out," Ino declared. "We have more important things to do." Then she let go of Shikamaru to blow a kiss at the guy when she moved toward the stairs in the aisle.

"Sorry," Sakura apologized to the disgruntled man as she was whisked away, but the apology was aimed more at herself than anyone. It was about to be a long night.

.

.

.

After bullying Ino into buying Sakura a rather exorbitant gift card for the pizza chain down the street as payback, as well as two pizzas up front, the three of them went back to her apartment to eat them with pasta and wine and to hear her regale them with the fascinating tale of how she managed to jump her boss.

As much as Sakura didn't want to admit it, it felt good to talk about it. The whole thing was so confusing, so out of the blue, and she'd done it so impulsively that she wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

It wasn't as if she hadn't enjoyed the whole experience—no, she'd _thoroughly_ enjoyed it. The first time alone had practically sent her into the twelfth dimension. Then the next several rounds had been equally unreal, enough so that she'd had asked Kakashi what the fuck they taught astrophysics majors. He'd just laughed in that cryptic little way of his, said that it was in fact _she_ who was doing most of the work, and kissed her on the corner of her mouth, which… _God._ Even thinking about it sent her all aflutter.

It was all so unbelievably good that she wondered why she'd dashed out at the first signs of him falling asleep. She'd been the one to initiate the whole thing, to keep it going for more than a few hours, and then she left as quickly as she'd started it. At first she thought she might have been terrified by the fact that she could possibly have a bit of a crush on him, which was stupid. But what was more worrisome was that he was her _boss,_ for God's sake. He was paying her more for a week than she got at the coffee shop for two. She needed that money so, so badly, and she'd done a swell job of setting herself up for disaster after formally meeting him once.

_Once._

"So?" Ino threw her slice of mushroom and spinach onto her plate with a perfunctory flourish. The decorative lantern in the corner made her hair and eyes look orange and a little fiery, which would have been kind of scary if she weren't so pretty. "You might have started it, but you're consenting adults. And clearly he liked it."

"Well," Sakura managed to respond, biting her lip with a bit of secret pride. Ino definitely noticed.

"And you like _him,_ right? So own it."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have to worry about getting a steady income." She knew Ino wouldn't take offense to it. The Yamanakas were old money, and as much as her dad pretended not to, he spoiled the shit out of Ino, who was his only child. She'd just gotten back from a three-week trip to California a few days ago, one which likely had little to do with alleged 'job opportunities' and more to do with shopping and music festivals and American guys.

"True. But you _slept_ with him. Not just once, either. You really can't do any more damage than that."

"Ugh." Sakura had to force herself not to faceplant into the pizza on her coffee table. "Why do I do this? The _one_ job I actually enjoy, with a boss I can actually tolerate, and I fuck it up by being a total dumbass."

"Oh, honey, I would have done the same thing," Ino said with a mischievous smirk. "If he's as hot and, uh… _titillating_ as you say he is, anyone would have, I'm sure."

Sakura blushed openly. It wasn't even that he was hot, honestly. She'd only known him for a day and she liked him better than ninety percent of the people she'd met since Ino her freshman year of undergrad. And okay, sure, she had a weakness for his type—older, smart, sarcastic, animal lover…and if she thought about it, the money he was theoretically hiding from that NASA patent didn't hurt either.

But it was more than that, and she knew it. Maybe it was just a day of delusion talking, or a strange head cold, or maybe she'd been possessed by a succubus. In any case, talking to Kakashi and sleeping with him was the probably the most fun she'd had in a very long while. There was this… _feeling_ she had around him—she hardly knew anything about him, but felt like she'd known him for years, and he was so sleepy and sexy and frustrating to talk to and sort of shy and a hell of a big spoon in bed and oh God, okay, maybe she _did_ have a crush on him. A very, very tiny one that she could easily nip in the bud before it got out of hand.

"He probably does that with every young girl he hires," Shikamaru chimed in from the bean bag chair he was draped over, eyes on the television where some bizarre historical anime was currently playing. She didn't remember getting that channel before. "That's the problem with older men. They lure you guys in when you least suspect it and make you think it was your doing."

"Nice try, but that doesn't make me want to seduce your dad any less," Sakura retorted, gnawing on a piece of alfredo-covered chicken. She really needed some vegetables one of these days. "And anyway, this guy doesn't seem like the type. He's weird, but not, like…creepy."

Ino was eyeing her funnily now which made her grow self-conscious. "Have you talked to him since then?"

"No." She shoved her short bangs off her forehead, ignoring the judgmental look she was likely receiving.

"Sakura!" Ino smacked her arm, chastising her for being terrible at one-night stands. Or one-day stands, in this case. "It's Thursday! He probably thinks you died or something!"

She recalled the way she'd literally collapsed out of the taxi she took home, how Hidan had had to make a house call just to help her stand up properly. "Uh, I kind of did."

"Not what I mean, you big slut." Ino tried not to laugh. "You need to call him. Or at least text him."

"Okay, but, like…he knows I'm alive, Ino." Sakura shifted around, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands. "I've walked his dogs for the last two days. And I forgot to put the water glass I used at his house yesterday in the sink."

"Yeah, because that's _such_ a good indicator of anything." She rolled her eyes and took a big gulp of wine. "If you're really worried about your job, you should at least shoot him a what's-up text. At the very least, he'll appreciate it—and if he's as nice a dude as you seem to think he is, he'll show you some mercy." Peach-tinted lips curved into her signature up-to-no-good smirk after a moment of thinking. "Even more so if you were good in bed."

The tips of Sakura's ears burned without her permission. "This is so stupid."

"Yeah, just a little," Shikamaru drawled with his eyes on the television. She hurled a chunk of pizza crust at him which he caught and ate with surprising grace.

"Don't you and your left hand have date with your dick this evening?" Ino batted her lashes, chock full of sugary sweetness.

"Already on it," he replied with his mouth full, and then they both threw pizza at him. Ino's slice hit his face with the tiniest smacking noise that instantly made Sakura snort.

"Nasty ass."

Ino had another laugh at Shikamaru's expense and took a sip of wine, but she wasted no time returning to the point.

"You need to talk to him, Sakura," she said. "I get that you're embarrassed, and maybe in some distant realm of the universe you should be. But you and I both know that Tsunade didn't raise a pussy."

Sakura considered all of this, taking in her oversized sweater and Hello Kitty pajama pants, her untamable fluff of bubblegum hair, the pouty set to her mouth, and realized she looked like the child—or _pussy,_ as Ino had so eloquently put it—that she was starting to feel like. That wouldn't do. It was time to own up to her actions, even if it meant looking like more of a dumbass than she already did. She exhaled deeply, heavily.

"I hate when you're right." She raised her glass toward Ino, who subsequently clinked it with her own and smiled as victoriously and effortlessly as ever.

"I know you do."

.

.

.

_Hi, Kakashi. I was_

Backspace.

_Hi, this is Sakura. I wanted_

Backspace.

_Hey. Your dogs are doing well but that's not why I'm texting_

Backspace.

_Good evening, sir. It's your dog walker with the bomb-ass p_

Instant backspace, preferably before finishing and accidentally pressing 'send.'

_It's Sakura. Just wanted to apologize for my apparently uncontrollable sexual urges. Hope I didn't traumatize you into firing me._

Backspace, this time with a sigh.

_I know it's been like four days since I even thought to contact you after something so bizarrely Not Me, but can we do that again?_

Delete, delete, delete.

"Ugh." Sakura threw her phone down on the mattress beside her with a clumsy hand. "Ughhhhh. Why is this so _hard._ " She'd been laying in the dark for half an hour trying to formulate something to send Kakashi, but nothing seemed quite right. Unfortunately, Google wasn't very helpful in the way of how-tos for apologizing to your boss after fucking him, running away, and ultimately making everything ten thousand times more awkward than it ever had to be.

Suddenly she heard the unmistakable sound of a message sending.

Sakura's breath caught painfully in her windpipe, making her stomach convulse, and she picked up the phone with a careful hand. _No, no, no, no…_

In her haste to get the thing away from her, her phone had betrayed her—maybe it had been her fingers, or her pillow, or even just the forces of evil themselves, but they'd managed to type and send Kakashi two simple emojis: the sparkle one followed by a fried shrimp. She sighed so hard it almost hurt, hating that her first thought was _thank God it wasn't the eggplant._

"Okay." She sucked in a steadying breath. "Okay. This is fine."

Perhaps he wouldn't see the message, she thought with a warped, relieved sort of smile, nodding to herself. And if he did, he'd probably disregard it because it was silly and meaningless. And if he did regard it, it would probably be with a question mark and only a question mark, one which would likely encompass his feelings on the entire situation, and _she_ could disregard _his_ message until she had her own thoughts and feelings on the entire situation together, and—

Her phone buzzed softly in her hand. Biting her entire lower lip and part of her chin, she lifted the screen into view once more, only to see that Kakashi had responded.

It hadn't even been two minutes since her text. A giddy thought occurred to her—he could be sitting in his own dark bedroom, getting ready to sleep, texting her with a really weird smile on his face. He could have been waiting to hear from her. What an idea. Sakura had to refrain from slapping herself as her grin slowly, hesitantly grew wider.

But then it rapidly disappeared when she tried to decipher his text.

Kakashi had sent her a little emoji combo of his own: the salsa-dancing woman followed by the poodle followed by a peace sign. Hmm.

Woman…dog…peace sign.

Huh. Sakura was a woman. And she walked his dogs.

"Oh God," she groaned under her breath, mashing her entire face into a pillow. Was he peace-outing her? Like, actually firing her? "Fuck. _Fuck."_

Or, she thought, grasping desperately for an alternative—maybe he was making some kind of innuendo. That seemed likely. He was a man, for one, and he made a lot of wiener jokes, and he had all those porny-looking books in his room, and they'd had sex. Again: likely. So the woman and dog meant the woman who walked his dogs, meaning Sakura, and then the peace sign…fingers? Did he…did he want to… _finger_ her?

Her face went hot in an instant. How she _wished_ Ino were still here and not across town, dead asleep from residual jet lag. She thought about calling her and facing the wrath that came with interrupting her beauty sleep, but there was no way she would answer. Apparently this was one Sakura would have to conquer alone, even if her mind was pulling her in approximately twelve different directions.

She had no idea what she expected out of him or what she herself truly wanted out of this entire ordeal. The hopeless romantic in her was telling her to flirt with him, to call him, to let him know how much she'd enjoyed Sunday, to find out if he liked it as much as she had, then see if it all led to the perfect movie ending with a cliched pop song and some scenic view. The horny bitch in her was also telling her to flirt with him, to see if he wanted to go another few rounds without worrying about her employment status.

The reasonable side of her, however—which usually happened to be the dominant one—cared more right now about keeping her job.

She quickly decided to send back a clap emoji with the prayer hands, hoping to emulate a _pleasepleasepleasepleaseIcanexplain_ vibe no matter his intentions. Then she waited for the telltale ellipses bubble that would show he was typing something back.

She didn't have to wait much longer. It appeared no more than thirty seconds later. The animated way the thing moved sent her heart into the base of her throat, even more so when the message came through.

It was all emojis again: saxophone, dancing ghost, top hat, sunglasses.

"O…kay." Sakura stared at the message for a while. The strangeness she'd originally witnessed with Kakashi—basically everything he'd said and done before her lady parts gave her rose-colored glasses—started to trickle toward the front of her mind, and she realized the text probably wasn't meant to make sense.

That, or he was messing with her. She narrowed her eyes at that dumb ghost emoji, its tongue out all happy and cute. Then she made the executive decision to send Kakashi back a side-eyeing face, a hot dog, and a knife. Surely that would be unambiguous. The thought made her smile despite the insane grip her teeth had on her bottom lip.

Her room was nearly silent and dark as she awaited Kakashi's response; the only light came from the faint glow of her alarm clock, set to wake up in time to walk the dogs, and from the dim white halo of her phone screen. The only sounds were her air conditioner, which was running on a setting not much cooler than the temperature outside, and her heartbeat, which she could feel in her collarbones and hear against her pillow. All of this nonsense had her feeling like she was waiting for Christmas morning.

She gasped when he responded a minute later, smiling unabashedly. "This is fucking ridiculous."

He'd sent her a kissy face, the one with the heart on it. _What a tart,_ she thought, retreating into her pillow and trying to imagine Kakashi sending her a fucking _kissy face._ He was probably reclining on his bed, wearing some patchy old clothes, smirking with that lopsided humor of his. She told herself the mental image was not attractive or adorable in any way.

Because it was late and her inhibitions were lower, she also told herself, and _not_ because she was enjoying the gratification of getting him to respond so quickly, she sent him a non-emoji message.

_Wyd_

Simple and to the point, and definitely something Ino would wring her neck for. She would say that it was the type of thing a guy would send, not coy or playful or enticing in any way. But Sakura had proven herself to be rather direct, and Kakashi, for whatever reason, seemed to bring out her impulsive side.

She'd just started to recall a few of the, uh… _finer_ details from Sunday when her phone buzzed again.

_had 2 google that._

Sakura laughed a bit, air escaping her nose in a funny little rhythm, before another text came through:

_food prep 4 2moro…wyd?_

She barely even thought about what she was typing before sending one back.

_Sleep prep for tonight. Lol. Got any frogs in holes?_

It was stupid, even if it did make her toes curl in anticipation of what he might respond with. Her covers suddenly felt too warm and heavy so she discarded them around her knees and rolled onto her stomach, letting her feet kick slowly and aimlessly through the air.

_not 2nite sadly. if u want 1 u'll have 2 come by truck :)_

The butterflies in her stomach chose that moment to whirl into a frenzy. She could almost hear Kakashi saying it, that subtle flirty note creeping in near the end of the sentence.

 _Darn,_ she typed, tamping down a dopey giggle. _I was hoping to enjoy one in the comfort of your home._ She stopped, thinking that was being too forward, and then decided to add _I've been wondering if they taste better without the hangover._

It still felt somewhat forward, but whatever. As Ino had pointed out, she couldn't do much worse than she'd already done. She had to force herself not to chew on the tips of her fingernails while she waited.

 _would b happy 2 enlighten u,_ he replied soon after. _just name the time_

So he was putting the ball in her court. Despite the fact that it could be a subtle nod to her fleeing on Sunday, she chose to see it as a positive thing. Especially since he was inviting her back to his house in the first place. And he clearly knew she was the type who liked to name the time.

She was formulating a response in her head, had her thumbs poised to write it, but was promptly stopped by something popping up on her screen.

Shizune was calling. After ten o'clock at night.

Unless the two of them were together, Shizune was hardly ever _awake_ at this time. The phone vibrated hard against Sakura's palm, startling her a bit as she stared at the contact photo, the ringtone blaring in the silence. She swiped immediately to answer it.

"Are you okay?"

 _"Sakura-chan,"_ Shizune nearly sobbed into the phone, immediately bringing Sakura up to sit on her knees, limbs locked as if ready to pounce. She could hear loud noises in the background—maybe it was people or music or both, but it was loud. _"Remember how, um…remember when I blocked you-know-who's number?"_

Oh no. Sakura stood up fully now, a bit disoriented in the darkness of her room. "Where are you? Is he there?"

 _"Um…yeah…"_ She sounded vaguely out of breath; Sakura assumed she was on the verge of tears. _"Can you come here? I'm at that bar near the subway station—"_

Sakura was already out the door, keys and purse in hand and Shikamaru's house slippers halfway on her feet. "Do not move, Shizune." Her feet thwacked hard against the stairs, then the pavement as she dashed down the road, avoiding trashcans and scooters like a Olympian clearing hurdles. "Do not _move._ Don't look at him, don't touch him, don't even think about his stupid ass. I'll be there in two minutes."

 _"Well…okay."_ Shizune sighed into the phone. _"I'm sorry."_

"What?" She herself was starting to sound out of breath. With no help from the dim lamps on her street, the night was dark, and she barely managed not to step on a broken bottle that had rolled out of someone's garbage. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault." She was almost to the main road now—she could see the taillights of cars and the sign from the convenience store on the corner—and then it would be another minute and a half before she got there.

_"Yeah, it is."_

_Great._ Sakura nearly growled under her breath, though she refused to slow her pace. "Just—don't move. Alright?" She promptly ended the call, shoving her phone into her bag and continuing toward the street ahead of her.

"I hate men," she grumbled to herself, her feet leadening into stomps as they braved the concrete through the thin soles of her slippers. It would have been nice to have boots or even flip flops at the moment, she thought with a lamenting sigh of an exhale, but a situation like this called for urgency and nothing else—except maybe a little adrenaline, or, in extreme cases, massive quantities of self-control and restraint.

This ex of Shizune's had caused so much trouble for the both of them at this point that Sakura was feeling less inclined to hold onto that particular quality. Her cousin's fault or not, the guy was a piece of shit, and a black eye or concussion would be all too easily and happily given. Sakura's knuckles cracked where they held her bag's strap as she sprinted around the corner, then dashed past a group of businessmen on their way home and a weary-looking waitress smoking outside a cafe.

"Urgh." Sakura just _knew_ that fucker had stirred some shit up and made Shizune think she'd started it. It was just like whatever pervy old men Shikamaru was talking about before. "Stupid fucking asshole. I _hate_ men." The wind blew her bangs off her face and was cool against her face, which was flushed more from anger than exertion. She sucked in a great breath, stopped at the crosswalk when she realized the light was red, and then couldn't hold it in anymore, so she didn't. "I HATE MEN!"

 _Except Kakashi,_ her mind whispered with a conspiratorial poke at her frontal lobe. Then, with a bit more of her true, stubborn-as-shit inner self involved, she thought: _Maybe._

The light turned green, and all other thoughts fell to the wayside—as did the few fearful men who'd been waiting beside her.

"Girl, me too!" the waitress called, and even though Sakura took off sprinting, she managed a wave of solidarity above her head all the way across the street.

.

.

.

"Right there?"

"Mmm. Yeah. Wait, no—down a little— _yeah."_

"Hn. Watch this."

"Oh. Oh _hell_ yes." Deep sigh. "Is there any way you can do it harder than that?"

"Yeah, if you want me to break your leg."

"Go for it."

"If you say so."

"I do—oh my— _fuuuuck."_

"Quit moaning and shit or I'll stick a needle in your ass cheek."

Sakura let her head loll back onto the face cushion of Hidan's work bench. She could feel all of his silver rings pinching her skin as he massaged the back of her leg, but she couldn't possibly have cared less. For all the other things he lacked, the dude knew his shit when it came to therapy—of the physical variety, at least.

"Feel that?" He flicked the back of her knee where her hamstring was—or where it used to be before it had unraveled and transcended toward a heavenly plane of existence. "I'm the master of loosening that shit up."

"I'm not gonna argue with that," she breathed, trying not to fall asleep on the table. "I don't think I've ever been this relaxed in my entire life."

"Yeah, that's sayin' a lot. You're kind of a tightass."

Sakura snorted. The sound of his footprints leaving the room was accentuated by the soles of his heavy combat boots. "Probably not the best thing to say to reflect all the hard work you just did."

"No offense, princess, but that's not something I can work on. That's a kink you gotta work out on your own time." She heard his keys jingle. If he started trying to juggle them and broke another vase…she shivered, remembering the stitches she'd had to give him on this very table. The ones he'd requested to have _without_ anesthetic because 'pain was a good thing.' She promptly slid off the table, adjusting the skirt of her dress, trying not to pout from the loss of her brief nirvana.

"Speaking of time," she half-sang, gliding into the waiting room and hoping to distract him from his whims, "thanks for helping me out the last few days. I was surprised that you cared about my wellbeing enough to literally get me back on my feet."

"I actually don't care, so don't worry about it." Hidan grinned pridefully, twirling his key ring around his middle finger. "You can pay me back with lunch. And a beer or something. I've been bored as shit since you went all space cadet this week."

She chose not to acknowledge that last part. "I'm not buying you alcohol when you still have two appointments left this afternoon."

His tongue poked out between his teeth. She wondered briefly if it was pierced—he'd never stuck his whole tongue out before. Maybe that was a good thing.

"See what I mean? Tightass."

Sakura rolled her eyes hard enough to threaten a headache. "And here I thought you didn't want to get sued."

"Whatever." He ran a hand through his gel-slicked hair, pushing it off the elaborate tattoo on his neck. "Tightass."

Her old, flat sneaker tapped against the floor five separate times before she realized he wasn't going to stop thinking it was funny. "Are we eating or not?"

"Yeah." A twinkle came to Hidan's russet-brown stare, which worried Sakura. "I know just the place."

.

.

.

When they came up to it around fifteen minutes later—after a terrifying ride through town on his motorcycle, no less, and an equally terrifying parking job in some sketchy garage a few blocks down—Sakura promptly turned from the crowd waiting for the light to change and stormed away. Why she ever tried to deal with Hidan, _especially_ outside of work, was a mystery to her.

"What's wrong with this place?" he called from his vantage point over the heads of people who weren't super tall and muscular like him, knowing exactly what the fuck was wrong with it.

"I literally hate you," she yelled back, brows low and cross over her eyes. "I hope your hot dog gives you diarrhea so you can't acupuncture your way out of suffering."

People were staring as they walked past. Most were laughing. Hidan was positively _cackling._ Sakura didn't care.

"Hey, spitfire, come back here!" He leaned against the light post with his typical haughty posture as she turned to keep moving away. "There are other restaurants around here, you know!"

"Then pick one!" She whirled around, accidentally body-checking an innocent woman. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

The woman told her it was fine and went on her merry way, but Sakura could barely hear so much over the sound of Hidan's wicked laughter. _Fuck,_ she hated men.

Her eyes drifted across the road to where the Giant Wieners truck was situated so unassumingly against the sidewalk, a rather long line of all kinds of people trailing in front of the buildings where it was parked. Kakashi was in there. She felt her fingers twitch, flexing her palms.

"Can we just—go?" She finally took it upon herself to march over to Hidan and physically drag him down their side of the block. _Away_ from the truck. It felt weirdly similar to trying to get Bull to move in the direction she wanted, though Bull was infinitely sweeter than Hidan. "I want healthy food anyway, not…street stuff."

His arm reached over her shoulder to point somewhere not far ahead. "There's a vegetarian place. D'you think they have alcohol?"

"They better," she mumbled under her breath, which only made Hidan laugh again.

It wasn't until she'd calmed down, had a beer in her boss's stead, and was deep in her bowl of daikon and carrot salad that he dared to broach the elephant in the room.

"So," he began, chopsticks poised like he was about to play a game of Operation.

"No." Sakura ate a decent portion of the tofu from her soup.

"Don't I have a right to know?" His voice was a squawk in the calm interior of the restaurant. She could hear the metal of his rings tapping against the table's glass surface. "I'm basically the only reason you can walk right now!"

"This is true. But the pain today was worse than the other days, and it happened for an entirely unrelated reason."

She went about rearranging the shreds of nori over the rice in her bowl and only looked at him when he remained silent, finding a highly expectant, almost childlike expression on his face which was comically at odds with his intensely macho appearance.

"Which is…?" Tap, tap, tap.

"I, uh, kind of roundhouse kicked my cousin's ex into a brick wall." Calmly, she ate another delicate spoonful of silken tofu. It was smooth and mild on her tongue, a refreshing change from all the greasy junk and coffee she'd been ingesting over the last few weeks. Er, months. She cleared her throat. "I think I pulled the muscle because it was a double kick."

Hidan was still as stone across from her, the unusual color of his eyes and their unyielding stare making her fidget in her seat.

"What?"

"I can't tell if my current boner is from being a little scared of you or from being impressed."

Sakura scowled, specifically at the word _current_. "For your sake, it better be both."

He smirked in his devilish way, shoving an entire piece of inarizushi into his mouth with his fingers. "What'd the fucker do? Not that your wrath is hard to earn."

Her scowl deepened. She crossed her arms over her chest, spoon resting against her chin. "He did stuff he wasn't supposed to. The end." On the list of Things She Really Didn't Want to Talk About, this ranked higher than anything else. In every possible respect, last night hadn't gone in quite the direction she'd been hoping.

"Fair enough." He continued to chew his food, partly with an open mouth, which was gross. "Tell me about the Giant Wieners dude, then."

She tried to ignore how her heart leapt into her throat. "Fine." She touched the spoon to her chin a few times, wondering where to start and trying not to think about why she was telling any of this to Hidan in the first place. "Well…let's just say his dogs aren't the reason I called you to my house on Sunday."

Hidan clapped. "Hah! Knew it."

Her eyebrow raised toward her hairline as she recalled how easily he'd bought the story of her getting stampeded by Bull and a bunch of german shepherds during a walk. "Did you."

"No, but whatever." Despite the fact that he still had rice in his mouth, he shoved another whole inarizushi in there. "So what was it? You beat the shit out of him?"

"No," she sighed, too exasperated to dance around it anymore. "I had sex with him."

"Well, _shit."_ It was kind of hard to understand what he'd said with a full mouth. _"_ No wonder."

"No wonder?" Their server stepped forward to refill her water. "Thank you."

The server smiled politely, retreating before Hidan could ask for a third round of the dish he'd ordered.

"No wonder you couldn't move!" His hand smacked the table, rattling the plates. "I told you the dude's in fucking awesome shape." His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned salaciously. Sakura prayed it was only to get mushroom pieces off his gums. "And I mean…knowing your temper and the bangin' muscular condition your legs are in, I bet you could fucking murder someone in the sack."

"Dial it back." She'd offer to give him a double roundhouse kick, but knowing him it would definitely backfire on her.

"Yeah, yeah." He finally swallowed his food. "Tightass."

"You're paying for lunch." She punctuated her command with a big bite of fresh, crisp salad and another spoonful of soup.

"Okay, tightass." He dipped a finger into the sauce on his plate and swirled it around. "Keep going."

"Hold on. Ugh." A bit of broth dripped onto the lap of her dress, though thankfully on the dark part of the black-and-white plaid. She dabbed the spot with her napkin anyway. "Anyway, I don't know what else you want to know. It's not that interesting."

"Lies," Hidan practically sang. He wasn't wrong. "First things first: is his wiener giant?"

Sakura put her utensils down and just stared at him. She wasn't expecting him to relent, of course, but when he started crossing his eyes, she couldn't hold her expression very well and had to hold back a laugh instead. "Next question."

"Daaamn." Hidan sucked the soy sauce off his pinkie finger, then held it up by his face. "That small?"

As much as she tried not to, she blushed. Ridiculous. She was in school to be a _medical professional._ "God. No. It's, um…above average." She tucked her hair behind her ears, smoothing her bangs back in the same direction. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Don't get all demure on me now, princess. I want all the deets."

"What are you, fourteen? And why do you want to know so much?"

"'Cause I know this guy." He shrugged, his broad shoulders stretching his too-fitted shirt across his chest. She could see the words _castigo corpus meum_ peeking out from the underside of his forearm, tattooed over the tanned skin in some bold gothic font. "And 'cause it's funny."

"You're so weird."

He dipped his fingers back in sauce—she'd have to remind him to wash his hands before those appointments later on. "Tell me something I don't know. Like the dirt on this dude. Just start from the beginning."

"Oh my God, _okay."_ Sakura sighed. "Well…after the first time I met him—you know, at his truck…I dunno." She raked her fingernails over the skin behind her ear. "I went over there later than I was supposed to, and he was there because his truck was in the shop, and we started talking, and he got me to help him wash his dogs. And then my clothes got all wet, so he told me to change into some of his…and then…I don't really know what came over me. I just pounced on him, and he went with it."

"So you're telling me that _you_ started it? Not him?"

She just bit her lip, unsure of everything all over again, and nodded. Hidan whistled loud enough to alert the whole restaurant.

"Damn. I'm impressed."

A snort left her nose at light speed. "I'm not sure that's a positive thing."

"If it sounds like a porno, then it's probably a good thing." Hidan leaned closer, thoroughly intrigued. "So then what?"

"I left. That's when you came to my house." She sighed again, far more sharply this time. "I don't know. I'm so tired of talking and thinking about it." Her hands scrubbed over her eyes—thankfully she hadn't put on makeup, she remembered at the last second—and then smoothed hard over her hair. "I just want—ugh. I don't even know what I want."

He nodded, eyebrows converging in an exaggerated expression of sage wisdom. "Women are powerless to good dick."

 _"Ugh,"_ she groaned, fully regretting that she'd started talking about all of this again. She needed Ino, not _Hidan_ , for crying out loud. "I don't know what to _do."_

"Did you quit?" he asked, arms still crossed contemplatively across his chest. As contemplatively as he was capable of, at least.

"No." She sat up straight, realizing that she'd been slouching. "I really, really need the money that I'm supposed to make from the dogwalking, so I was waiting to see if he fired me first."

"Shit, bitch, have you even _talked_ to him?" Hidan scoffed, even when Sakura glared daggers at him.

"Here." She dug her phone out from her purse, unlocked it, and chucked it across the table, feeling a little satisfied when it thumped him in the nose. "See for yourself, asshole."

Hidan held it like it was a time bomb, pinching the sides of the phone with his fingertips, all the while sporting a pinched brow.

"Right. I forgot you're allergic to technology," Sakura deadpanned, snatching it back and finding the thread of messages between her and Kakashi. "Take it." When Hidan hesitated, she rolled her eyes and literally put the phone in his hand. For someone so unbelievably brash and devil-may-care, he sure picked the dumbest things to get weird about.

At first she didn't really give a crap about what his thoughts were on the situation. But as he read, his expression went from curious to confused, then amused with raised eyebrows and a smirk; then it crunched back into confusion, and she definitely wanted to know why.

"What?"

"Why'd you text him back this morning instead of last night?" His thumb swiped up and down the screen. "Did you fall asleep or something?"

"Oh." Sakura relaxed a bit. "That's when I had to go and kick that guy in the face."

"Emergency situation, huh? What are you, Catwoman?" He flashed his teeth at her, wiggling his eyebrows at the same time, and she snatched her phone back in response. "No! Quit! I'm lookin' at something!"

"Then hurry up and look!" She sank back in her seat with an irritated pout.

"Fine!" He looked back to the screen, concentrating hard. "I mean…I dunno what it is. It looks like you're just a pretty shitty texter."

"What? No I'm not. I still texted him back!"

"Yeah, but like…" The big ring on his middle finger tapped against the table in an offbeat, distracted way. "You're kind of a dick, I guess."

Sakura bristled, sitting upright once more. "You _guess?_ What does that mean?"

"Well, for starters, you can't flirt for shit."

Her face flushed more than it needed to, but she couldn't deny that one. "And?"

"And you didn't treat this dude right. Look at this." One purple-painted nail pointed at her screen. "Homie gives you an opening for some nookie, or even just to hang out, and you pretty much ignore him. Then," he continued when she tried to interrupt him, "shh. Then the next thing you hit him with is a text, the _next morning,_ asking if you can pick up your paycheck."

"What's so bad about that?" Sakura could feel a pinch in her chest. _Damnit._ She should have just waited for Ino before responding to Kakashi.

"That's cold as hell! What the fuck!" Their server whipped around to face them from several feet away, clearly alarmed. Sakura apologized with a frantic wave. "C'mon. You can't tell me you didn't know that was a dick move."

"I didn't!" she hissed. She really hadn't, and now that feeling she hated was creeping back into her bones—the one she hated so much but was experiencing more lately than she ever had. Embarrassment. "I just thought it might be convenient for the both of us. He could finally pay me, and if he wanted to fire me, he could tell me while I was there…"

Hidan was dumbfounded. "Seriously?! This guy was not gonna frickin' fire you, kid. Look at those little cartoon thingies." He flicked her phone screen where the dancing ghost text sat so innocuously. "Those things are basically an invitation to get nasty delivered on a goddamn silver platter. Or to keep talking, even. And he literally invited you to do shit with him, but you didn't respond except to get paid. You probably, like, hurt his feelings or some shit."

She blinked, stomach dropping at his words. "Hurt his feelings?" The image of Kakashi, so incredibly blasé and relaxed, even in the throes of whatever happened on Sunday, came to mind. "I don't know, Hidan. He didn't seem that worried about it." She thought about it for another few seconds. "And he didn't text me all week. Not until I accidentally sent him something. To me, that pretty much screams 'not worried about it.'"

"You didn't text him either, and look at you, tightass." Hidan threw his hands up, nearly smacking a passing customer in the side. "Just sayin'."

Unfortunately, he was right. Sakura had been thinking about it all week, day in and day out, only taking enough breaks to come up for air. Despite taking very un-Sakura measures to try and avoid the consequences, she'd been secretly wondering if he was thinking about it too, what he thought about the whole thing. About her, too.

She glanced at the text conversation, pushing hair off her face as she read. The emojis were like hieroglyphics she could no longer make sense of. After Kakashi's _just name the time_ text, she'd had to go find Shizune and stay with her most of the night. It wasn't until Sakura had woken up to walk the dogs that she remembered the unanswered message. In the haze of lingering sleepiness, she'd thought that asking to come pick up her paycheck was a good idea: again, he could fire her if he wanted to, and if he didn't, she could at least properly apologize to him for Sunday.

And if neither of those happened…well, she didn't let herself think that far—not because she didn't know what would happen, but because she knew exactly what she and her ridiculously hormonal self were hoping for, and she was not _about_ to slip up again.

 _Can I come get my paycheck today?_ she'd asked almost twelve hours after his text.

 _sure,_ he'd responded about twenty minutes later. _b back after 4_

Only now was Sakura realizing that there were no emojis, none of the playfulness that had been there last night. Maybe she really had offended him.

Honestly, she thought, he could've been busy with work when he sent the text. Or maybe he'd forgotten to send a thumbs-up or a puppy or a kissy face or…or whatever it was he did. But her gut was telling her otherwise, and now she felt like the worst person in the world.

"Awesome," she mumbled. "This is just awesome."

Hidan was finishing off her food when she looked up, tattooed fingers practically shoveling the salad into his mouth. "Dude, go talk to him. He's literally right down the street."

"No," she immediately protested. "I'm already going to talk to him later. He's working."

"True." Hidan shrugged, twisting his mouth into a strange frown. "Plus, you gotta come back to the clinic anyway. I think the credit card machine's acting fucky."

"I'm guessing you forgot to turn it on again." She exhaled heavily, grabbing her purse and standing up. "Go ahead and get the check. I'll wait outside."

"Aye aye, captain," Hidan replied around a mouthful of food, saluting her with his chopsticks and flinging rice across the floor of the restaurant. By then, Sakura was already on her way out the door.

Her dress billowed in the warm spring air when she stepped outside; the restaurant's wind chimes tinkled softly above her head as a breeze passed, one that brushed her neck and lifted her hair upward. It smelled like gasoline and grease, the fast food kind. She stared down the street in the direction the wind was coming from, seeing that yellow truck and its big red katakana stick out like a sore thumb among plain buildings and passing cars.

Her heart beat hard at the sight. Maybe she wasn't going over there to speak to Kakashi now, but she _was_ going to talk with him. And when she did, she would figure this mess out once and for all.

.

.

.


	4. wishy washy

"No."

She threw her cherry-patterned shirt on the bed, finding it ever-so-slightly too suggestive in the current situation anyway.

"No."

Then came the tea-length skirt Shizune gave her for Christmas last year, landing gracefully atop the mound of discarded outfits.

"No."

"Really?" Sakura asked out of mild disappointment. This was her favorite sweater, red and cozy and pilled at the elbows.

"Yeah," Shikamaru replied from his vantage point on the floor, ponytail askew where it laid against the laminate. "If you're gonna wear a sweater, find one that doesn't look like it's been used as a bar mop."

When she chucked the offending garment at him, he let it land on top of his head, accepting it with the collectedness of a meditating monk. Apparently he'd gotten used to her throwing random shit at him all the time. She'd have to find a way to keep him back on his toes.

"How's this one?" The blue sweater was hanging in her closet where she'd forgotten about its soft shade of turquoise; the sleeves were long enough to inch past her wrists, and the whole thing fit loosely, making the neck reveal the tops of her collarbones and the sleeves drape over her arms in a breezy sort of way. She didn't have to try it on to remember how cute it was, though she wondered why she always opted for her more raggedy sweaters instead.

"Better." Shikamaru closed his eyes, meaning her search was complete. _Finally._ "What are you gonna wear with it?"

"Probably just shorts." Sakura headed over to her small vanity, finding a pair of denim shorts on the back of the chair. "It's kind of hot today. Also, if I wear a skirt, it might ride up under this shirt and make it look like I don't have anything on, which…yeah."

"Hn." A hint of a smile was on his mouth. "Yeah."

"Yeah." She quickly changed into the outfit, not caring that she had a guest. She'd already changed into a clean bra and underwear, so the rest was inconsequential—if any man were harmless, it was definitely Shikamaru. "Do you think makeup will make it look like I'm trying too hard?"

He didn't move, which meant he was probably shrugging in spirit. "Depends on what you're trying for."

Her shorts slid on nicely, though they were a bit tighter than usual from the dryer cycle at Shizune's a few days ago. She wiggled around a little, praying all that ramen last semester wasn't finally taking its toll, and sighed once they buttoned properly. "Good point. I'll let you know when I find out."

"Well," he drawled, "whatever you do, I'm watching the shogi finals in here tonight."

"Fine." Sakura stared hard at the very basic amount of makeup she kept, how it was scattered haphazardly across the surface of the vanity. Then she reached for her blush brush and kneeled in front of the mirror. A little touching up never hurt anybody.

"'Fine'?" One eye cracked open to look at her with skepticism. "Guess I shouldn't wait up for you, then."

"I," she declared, buffing the brush over the apples of her cheeks, "am not telling you anything, actually. Ever. You love gossip more than anyone I've ever met." The level of peachy pink color on her face was perfect, nice and natural against the pale freckles on her skin and pastel hair. She turned to each side a bit, marveling at how much better she looked with a bit of a flush. "You're like a friggin' old lady."

"Did you say something?"

She glanced over to find him in the same position, eyes closed again. Perfect. Fingers poised, she aimed her brush at him and sent it at him like a dart, but he cracked his eye open at the last second and caught the thing. "Damnit!"

Shikamaru smirked for a moment, and then his eye caught Sakura's head. "You gonna fix that?"

Her hands went straight to her scalp. "Fix what?"

"It looks like someone sat on it."

"How the—why—" Sakura turned back to the mirror, finding her hair flat. Probably from all the nervous touching and smoothing she'd done to it today. She raked her fingers through it, waved her hands all around in it, but it still looked…well, like someone sat on it. Adorable. _"Ugh."_

With two rubber bands, she put her hair into short pigtails at the her neck, which was kind of stupid-looking, but better than before. A hair scarf, one she only used on lazy days around the house—when she had them, of course—was tied in a bow on the drawer handle next to her. If she tried, she could make it look cute.

Short as they were, she secured her bangs away from her face with the scarf, twisted it, looped it around, then tied it in a lopsided bow on top of her head. They looked like miniature floral bunny ears.

"Huh," she breathed. "I'm…not entirely sure that I don't look like an eight-year-old."

"If you didn't have the scarf, you would." A slight yawn drew out his words. "But you don't. Looks nice."

Compliments from Shikamaru were rare, and often half-hearted, but she would take what she could get. "Really?"

"Yeah." Another yawn, longer this time. "Perfect for luring in old creeps."

His eyes fell closed again, which gave Sakura a great opportunity to stand up and step on his stomach. She smiled when he let out a loud wheeze of a cough.

"I'm putting on mascara and then I'm leaving." And then, just for him—and, okay, kind of for her too—she said: "Don't wait up for me."

He snorted and barely shook his head against the floor. "Women."

She might have stepped on him one more time for good measure, but she was in too much of a hurry to really notice.

.

.

.

It was after six o'clock in the evening by the time she got to Kakashi's. She'd wanted to get there closer to four, but the subways had been so cramped after work that it took her forever to actually board one, and then Tsunade called when she got home, which meant she'd had to put up with all kinds of questions about her next semester of medical school. Then Shikamaru came over to tell her the rent was due, which she asked to pay once she got her dogwalking money, to which he'd replied with some bullshit about how he was now entitled to eat the rest of her leftover curry rice until she _did_ pay. Then she'd cursed him and his insane metabolism and shitty, lazy logic, flung curry rice all over her dress trying to throw the container at him, and ultimately ended up in this rather cute outfit after emptying out her closet.

She was nervous as hell walking up that driveway, especially when she saw an oldish silver SUV parked by the empty trashcans. The truck wasn't there, which for the first time made her wonder if the garage in the vacant building across the street was Kakashi's. The lights were on inside his house, though the curtains in the front window were drawn, and even as pale and sheer as they were she couldn't see more than the lamp by the window. If other people were here, she might as well hightail it.

Sakura huffed, realizing how silly she was being. No longer was she worried about Kakashi firing her, thanks to Hidan's bizarrely sound analysis. She was more worried that she'd upset him by being careless—but, of course, she wouldn't know that for sure until she actually _talked_ to the man.

With a deep breath, she reached up to knock on the door instead of letting herself in. It was only polite, after all.

The first thing she heard was one of the dogs barking—based on its gruffness, it was probably Pakkun giving notice of her arrival. Then Bull's deep one answered, heading closer to the door.

"I've got it!" came a human voice from the other side of the door. A distinctly _feminine_ voice. Sakura stiffened, back going straight as the door was opened not seconds later.

It took a second to make sure the dogs weren't getting out, but once the door swung open, it revealed a woman several inches taller than Sakura, not to mention a few years older. Her first thought was that the woman was undoubtedly attractive; her eyes and hair were dark but wild, her glossy lips smiled confidently in greeting, her t-shirt and jeans fit perfectly over a very curvy figure. There was a bottle of beer in her hand, half-empty. Music was playing further inside the house, something on the slower side, and the sound of glasses clinking together traveled all the way to where they were standing.

 _Oh no._ Sakura felt her stomach lurch. She'd clearly come at the absolute _worst_ possible time.

"Hi," the woman chirped, thumbing the neck of her bottle. Pakkun trotted up beside her feet, likely wondering why his dog walker was here for the second time today. "Can I help you?"

The way she said it almost made Sakura blush, and she wasn't really sure why. "Um, I'm here to see Kakashi?"

An eyebrow arched on the woman's face, and then her face lit up in an unexpectedly mischievous way.

"Ah," she said, regarding Sakura more closely now. "He didn't say anything about you joining us."

 _Us?_ Her stomach lurched again. _Us?!_

"Anko," called another female voice from inside the house, and the woman turned around, revealing an equally attractive, rather svelte woman with long black hair, a short white dress, and surprisingly sensible wedge heels. "Who is it?"

Her voice sounded like a late-night commercial for a sex hotline. Sakura almost hightailed it right then and there, partly because this obviously was the wrong time to be here, and partly because she was becoming increasingly worried that she'd stumbled into some kind of threesome that she had no intention of making a foursome.

"Kakashi has a visitor," the first one replied in a way that did nothing to ease Sakura's rapidly growing discomfort. The second woman looked surprised as she glanced in their direction and came to the door, stepping around Pakkun to gracefully extend a hand toward Sakura.

"Hello." Her tone was gentle, welcoming, as were her unusually bright eyes. "I'm Yuuhi Kurenai. This is my friend, Mitarashi Anko."

Sakura tried not to stare at her cleavage when she returned her handshake. "Haruno Sakura." She cleared her throat. "Is, um…is Kakashi here?"

"He's out back." Kurenai explained with a smile. Her lips and nails were berry red, and Anko's manicure was a jade green with pointed tips—quite a contrast to Sakura's own bare, bitten-down nails and chapstick. "Would you like to come in and have a drink?"

"I…" A chorus of male laughter sounded from the approximate area of the kitchen, and all she could think was _oh God, there are more people._ But Kakashi was here, and he was expecting her, and she was here, so she might as well get it over with, orgy or not. "Okay. Sure."

"Great." Kurenai guided Anko, who was grinning with a peculiar twist to her mouth, back toward the inside of the house, which allowed Sakura room to enter and remove her shoes.

She felt pretty small in between these women, especially since Kurenai still had heels on, ones that clicked in that sexy, authoritative way she'd always dreamed of mastering. Alas, she herself was much more of a sneaker kind of girl—or sandals, in tonight's case. Her hair was also short, in pigtails, while these two had long, beautiful hair which was so effortlessly styled. Had it not been for Anko's relatively simple outfit, she would have felt severely underdressed.

As they approached the kitchen, she could hear the men talking—at least one of them was making sound effects, and then there was another raucous chorus of deep, genuine laughter. There were six packs of beer all over the island, as well as full grocery bags and a bottle of wine or two.

This was a party. A gathering. A get-together. A _party._ Why the hell hadn't Kakashi told her she'd be walking in on this?!

"Beer or wine?" Anko asked, leaning a rounded hip against the counter as if she lived here.

"Wine, I guess," Sakura said distractedly, glancing into the open living room to find three large men sitting around there, beers in hand, chatting animatedly.

The one in the recliner was like a grizzly bear; his hair was thick, his sideburns blended into his beard, and his arms were tan and covered in even more hair. Oddly enough, the two other guys had no hair at all. One's head was as bald and shiny as a cue ball, though it had all these dimples and scars on it, and he looked mean as hell. The other looked like he'd shaved his head and seemed a bit menacing himself.

Sakura resisted the urge to gulp like people did in cartoons. "Where'd you say he was again?"

"Oh, he's out grilling in the backyard, being his usual hermit self." Anko's nails tapped against the counter while her other hand rested on her hip. That smile of hers was still in place. "So how do you guys know each other?"

"Anko," Kurenai teased with a breezy laugh. "She just got here. Save the interrogation for later."

"I'm just asking!" She pulled the cork out of a bottle with a resounding pop, pouring a glass full of red wine. "Sorry, hon," she said to Sakura. "I'm only curious because Kakashi never invites other people over." She moved the glass around on the counter, swirling its contents languidly. "The last time someone new came to one of these things, it was Baki—and that was, what, four years ago?"

"Two," her friend corrected, taking the glass and handing it to Sakura, then placing a hand against her back. "Let's head outside, shall we?"

Sakura followed the guiding weight of Kurenai's hand, feeling strange and totally out of place. It was like she'd never been in this house before. The only dog she could spot in the house was Bull, who was asleep in the corner where someone had set up a speaker. All three of those big dudes were sitting so casually in Kakashi's armchair and on his cruddy leather sofa, the TV on a soccer game without the sound on so the music wouldn't be interfered with. It felt weird, so intensely opposite of the calm quiet she'd experienced at this house until now. But then again, she barely knew anything about Kakashi. It was hardly her place to speculate about any of it—even if she wanted to really, really badly.

"Who's this?" the bear man asked as she and Kurenai passed, voice every bit as manly as he appeared. The other two men had quit chatting to gaze upon her with unbidden curiosity. She tried really hard not to glare back.

"She's Kakashi's guest," Kurenai calmly informed, the essence of a polite and polished host. All of the guys looked pretty astonished, exchanging glances where they sat. The dimply cue ball one even whistled.

"That's a first," he said with ribbing sort of scoff. The two of them kept walking, leaving the other three to talk about her in not-so-low whispers. Sakura's stomach fluttered in equal parts anxiousness, confusion, and irritation. She didn't like it. Any of it.

Before she even slid the porch door open, she could see Kakashi's figure through her own reflection on the glass. He was standing out there with one of the dogs at his feet. Her whole body went hot at the sight—it was like she hadn't seen him in a year and like she'd just left his bedroom on Sunday all at once. Kurenai, of course, noticed none of this.

"Hey," she called in that unrealistically sexy voice of hers, standing in the open doorway. Warm air flowed instantly into the house. "Someone's here to see you."

Kakashi glanced up at her with an inquisitive brow. Then his eyes landed on Sakura.

She froze.

He blinked, standing there for several long seconds. Then he raised his hand to wave, even though he was holding tongs with a raw piece of steak in them.

She eventually waved back, feeling uncannily similar to the one time in high school when she'd snuck out for a party and threw up all over Tsunade's living room carpet when she got home. Not only was the feeling due to the sense of impending doom, but also because of the slowly stirring nausea at the pit of her stomach. She probably would have done well without that beer at lunch.

"I'll give you some privacy," Kurenai said softly, finally sensing the atmosphere. She even guided Sakura outside and shut the door behind her, effectively sealing out all noise from the inside.

And then there were two.

The backyard was quiet and humid, especially with the heat emanating from the charcoal. Dusk had fallen, casting a faded pink hue onto whatever dim daylight remained. Kakashi stood beside the grill, his hair the same color as the smoke billowing out of it, shoulders slouched as casually as ever.

"Yo," he said as he watched her with sleepy eyes. One of his medical masks was securely in place, effectively obscuring anything she could read off him.

"Hi," Sakura responded a bit too quickly. Her voice was almost at squeak level. She was still on the porch, an inch away from the door, hands clutching her wine glass for dear life. "Sorry I crashed your party."

He paused for a moment and then beckoned her closer, the same way he had when she came to his truck for the first time. "Can't hear you. Food's talking."

Sakura shuffled closer, feet heavy as lead as she stepped down onto the wood patio. It was warm with residual heat from baking in the sun all day. It was strange to see Kakashi in person, even if it had only been five days since she'd last seen him. She'd spent so much time thinking about him between then and now that it was almost like she had made the whole thing up just to drive herself nuts.

His sleeves were rolled up on his elbows—a dark, thick sweater, still, despite the heat creeping too early into spring—as he expertly maneuvered half-moons of kabocha squash, peppers, and loudly sizzling pork-wrapped okra around the grill. It smelled so mouthwateringly savory and delicious that she kind of wished she were staying.

"What were you saying?" he asked once she was only two or three feet away. His eyes were on the food now. _Damnit._

"Oh." She cleared her throat and set her glass down. "Just, um…I didn't mean to crash your party."

"Ah." He flipped a piece of squash, perfectly browned and blistered. "No problem. It's not really a party."

Sakura waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. She resisted the very strong urge to clear her throat again, instead opting to stand at the end of the grill so she could face him.

"Actually, they just got here," he said the second she opened her mouth to speak. His eyes smiled briefly. "Bit of a surprise."

She didn't know what she was going to say before, so she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "What do you mean?"

His free hand came up to scratch at the side of his mask. "They, uh, like to drop in on me every now and then. Usually unannounced."

It was a sort of odd explanation, but it made the tight coil inside her chest unwrap a good bit. If they'd come here as a surprise, it was no wonder he hadn't texted her to let her know. She'd only been here for a few minutes and she already felt bombarded. Perhaps he did too.

"Why are you out here by yourself?" Her voice was a bit lighter than before, less direct and sharp from nerves.

"I'm not." He pointed with his elbow toward the decent plot of grass behind him. Shiba, Guruko, and Bisuke were play-fighting, jumping and rolling around without a care in the world. Akino stood at attention by Kakashi's feet, hoping for a piece of whatever was cooking; Urushi, surprisingly enough, was sleeping near the porch fan next to Uhei. "They're keeping me company. So are you."

She kind of hated that she couldn't pick up anything from his tone. No indicators of whether he hated her guts or if she'd offended him of even if he didn't care. Nothing.

"Look," Sakura began, pulling her sleeves over her fingers. "I really just came here for one thing. I wanted—"

The sound of a loud, rusty squeal followed by a huge thump interrupted her. It startled her so badly, in fact, that she gasped, and she craned her neck around Kakashi to see someone entering the backyard through some secret door in the fence. It was a guy in a plain green shirt and cargo shorts. It could only be one person.

"Yo, Yamato," Kakashi called without even moving an inch. Yamato closed the gate before he headed toward the patio with grocery bags and a friendly smile.

"Hey," he called back. "I brought some corn. Asuma's lucky he caught me before I walked over here." He set the bags down on the old wooden picnic table, then wiped at his brow with the back of his arm. He was breathing pretty heavily, some tiny sweat stains dotting his chest and collar. "It's a bit warm today for a barbecue, don't you think?"

"Mah, it'll cool down once it gets darker." Kakashi twirled the tongs around his fingers, then handed them to his friend. "Keep an eye on these. I'll be right back."

Yamato took them with a full laugh, a self-deprecating one, a very dad kind of laugh. Sakura supposed the dorky sandals and the baseball cap he was wearing didn't help that comparison.

"I haven't been here for a minute and you already…oh, hello, Sakura."

"Hi," she replied, following after Kakashi. "Long time no see."

He waved at her and laughed again, this time with nervous edge, likely wondering why they were leaving him out here so suddenly. Either that or he was terrible at grilling.

"Where are we going?" she asked Kakashi, though there weren't many places to go with that many people on the main floor. She saw everyone huddled around the glass doors, watching the two of them and dispersing once they saw them headed for the house. What was the big freaking deal?

"My room," he said plainly.

 _Oh._ That was probably it.

.

.

.

His bedroom was exactly like she remembered: minimalist, mismatched, but neat. His bed was made somewhat haphazardly. Or he'd just laid on top of it for a while and rumpled it up. She wondered, with a very obvious flush to her cheeks, if he'd changed the sheets since the last time she was up here. He really should have—there was a very good chance she'd torn them. Meaning a one-hundred percent chance. She purposefully unglued her eyes from the wrinkled comforter.

Kakashi was rummaging around in the attached bathroom—why the _bathroom_ would be where he kept his money, she wasn't sure—when all of a sudden she heard: "Aha."

He walked back into the room, bare feet padding gently against the hardwood, almost silently. In his hands was a stack of bills that he rifled through with a slick thumb. How did he do that so _quickly?_

"Here." He smiled at her with his eyes and handed her a sizable stack of them, which she pocketed with a bit of disbelief. Looking at the money, she was really, really glad he didn't fire her. But still. There were more important items to discuss.

"Thanks," Sakura said meekly, ashamed about the whole thing, and especially about this. "Now that that's over with, I need to talk to you."

His eye smile dropped, leaving him blinking. "Hm?"

Judging by his facial expression—even though there was very little to go by—and the general vibe, he hadn't expected that. He'd probably thought she would run off with her paycheck like an ungrateful bitch. God, now she _seriously_ felt like an asshole. Thoughts whirled around in her head like they were on a spin cycle, or a broken roller coaster, or like they were trapped in a tornado. Sakura perched herself on the edge of his mattress, rubbing at the tops of her legs to see if she could just get a fucking _grip._

"Everything okay?"

If he had to ask, she must have looked borderline hysterical. "I'm trying to remember what I wanted to say. Hold on."

She could feel the hesitant dip in the mattress when he sat down beside her, a decent space between them. Her pulse hammered. _Christ, woman, spit it the hell out!_

"Okay. So." She clapped her hands, setting her fingertips against her lips and shutting her inner self up. "The first thing I wanted to say is that I'm sorry about Sunday. I genuinely just…do not know what got into me."

There was a small beat in which he showed no signs of responding—but then again, she wasn't looking at him, so it wasn't like she could tell anyway. She chanced a glance in her periphery and saw that he was in a similar pose: hands in lap, eyes on floor, shoulders hunched. Though in true Kakashi fashion, or as true as she knew it to be, he wasn't tense like she was. No, he was sitting quite comfortably compared to her. _This fucking guy._

"What part?" he asked more lightly than she would have expected.

"What?"

"What part of Sunday are you sorry about?"

She stared at him openly, brows knitting together on her forehead. Was he high? Was that how he stayed so infinitely still and mellow and…and _weird?_ He sounded like he had just asked her about the chance of rain tomorrow.

"Uh…" Despite his tone, his question was a loaded one. She could hear Hidan's voice in the back of her head telling her to be more considerate—in so many words—but she wasn't really sure how to respond. "All of it? I guess? I don't know. Mostly the abrupt departure, but…"

It was quiet for another minute. Seconds ticked by, each one bating her breath until it lodged like something solid in her windpipe. And then his lips quirked, and he chuckled. He _chuckled._

"What?" It was said on the edge of laugh now, an incredulous one at that.

"Ah, nothing really." He crossed his legs, an ankle resting on its opposite thigh. "You did leave pretty abruptly, huh."

"Yeah," she said, but it came out more like a question. This felt startlingly similar to their pre-everything conversation on Sunday and she could feel herself getting frustrated. It didn't help that she was already on edge.

"No need to apologize." Kakashi smiled at her with his eyes. "All in all, it wasn't a bad day."

 _Not a bad day?_ What the hell did that mean?!

"I'd like to think it was more than just _not bad,"_ Sakura mumbled, narrowing her gaze at him, speaking without even thinking. "I think I had more sex Sunday than I have in my entire life."

She shut her mouth just in time to see Kakashi blink at her, a pink flush rising over the part of his face that his mask covered. _Oops._ Did her heart just skip a beat? Or twelve? She fussed with one of her pigtails.

He cleared his throat. "To be fair, you're still pretty young." His eyes went up toward the ceiling, as if he were thinking hard. "Proportionally speaking, if the same applied to me…that'd be pretty sad, hmm?"

She bit down a sudden smile, letting her teeth grasp her bottom lip. "Does it?"

"Dunno. It definitely applies in dog years."

Sakura's smile grew so much wider, slipping past the barrier of her teeth, and she pushed his arm. Their eyes met for a second. "You and your dogs," she half-whispered with a shake of her head.

"Me and my dogs." The faux lamenting in his sigh made it sound more fond than anything. "Just the nine of us."

Another push to his arm, and then a little giggle bubbled out of her, one that had significantly less nervous tension in it. She ended up laying back on the bed on autopilot, knitting her fingers where they lay on her stomach, and let out a sigh of her own.

"Speaking of the dogs…" Sakura waited until he turned slightly and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Just for the record, I'm not fired, am I?"

This seemed to perplex him again. "Uh…not that I've heard, no."

"Thank God," she breathed, closing her eyes in relief that resonated on levels she could only begin to recognize. "'Cause I really love those pups. Even Urushi."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, now." Sakura immediately opened her eyes again to see Kakashi reclining on the bed a safe distance away from her, resting on one elbow with his chin in his palm. "I still have to run this by Pakkun. He's the man of the house."

She snorted. "Fingers crossed, then. I don't think he likes me very much. That bacon treat I gave him this morning better earn me some points."

"Ah, yes. The bacon treat." Kakashi sagely nodded. "He told me about that."

Her eye roll barely managed to keep itself in check. "Did he now?"

"Mhmm." He looked at her, and she tried her best not to squirm, to keep the easy expression she hoped was on her face. "Don't worry, though. He likes you. He just comes off as a bit curmudgeonly until he knows what the situation is."

"He told you this too?"

"Sure did."

She laughed, a full and true sound. "You are…ridiculous."

"You know, he told me you'd say that."

Her shoulders settled further into the mattress as she crossed her arms. "What else does he tell you? The secrets of the universe? Astrophysical equations?" A snicker. "Who's _really_ a good boy?"

"No, no. Pakkun's a discreet one." Kakashi shifted the tiniest bit, and suddenly she could clearly smell the charcoal smoke in his hair and sweater, heady and toasty and warm. It was nice. Really nice, actually. "He mostly just offers his opinions."

"On what, brands of dog food?" Sakura joked around the dryness growing in her mouth and throat. Was it just her, or had he moved closer?

He shrugged with his free shoulder, quickly dissolving that thought. "People, too. He said you were, and I quote, 'cute.'"

A scoff left her mouth the second his eyes smiled at her as full-of-shit as she was starting to understand he was. "Yeah. Okay. He just likes me for my bacon treats."

The smile fell, though something good still lingered in his dark eyes when he glanced down at her once more. "He said he likes the way your shampoo smells, too."

She was going to sift through the front of her mind for a retort—joking about his dog wasn't a hard topic to navigate. In fact, she was feeling pretty proud of herself in light of Hidan's criticism and despite not having finished her apology to Kakashi. But then his free hand slid hesitantly over his quilt to brush a finger through the end of her pigtail. The gesture was so quick and playful, gone in a flash, but it made everything click.

_Oh._

They weren't talking about his pug, were they?

 _Well, for starters,_ she almost heard Hidan's voice squawk, _you can't flirt for shit._ Her pulse thrummed heavy in her neck.

_I'm an idiot._

Sakura stared up at Kakashi. He was definitely closer now, though she wasn't sure whether he had moved toward her on purpose. God, she wanted to yank that mask off his face so _badly,_ wanted to see if there was a lopsided smile hiding beneath there that would tell her whatever answer she was looking for. In the midst of the thought she reached a hand away from her chest and up toward his face, fingers poised to pull that loop out from behind his ear and reveal that sleepy expression in all its glory: the slightly crooked bottom teeth, the wry curve of his mouth…

"I think—"

"YYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The door, which had been halfway opened, was now rattling where it hit the wall. Sakura lurched forward into a sitting position when Kakashi turned swiftly to face the offender. Then she heard him sigh.

"Do you have to break something every time you come over?"

"My friend! Forgive me!" responded the guy in a grand bellow, leg still in the air from kicking. He looked like an asparagus standing in the doorway—he was wearing one of those green, skin-tight biking outfits with a green-and-black helmet. He had the best tan, the whitest teeth, and the worst eyebrows she'd ever seen. "I did not realize you were accompanied by a guest!"

Sakura could feel her entire face scrunch. Where the hell did he _find_ these people?

"Yeah, well." Kakashi lifted himself off the bed at a snail's pace, sliding his hands in his pockets once he was on his feet. "Tell that to the drywall."

The man laughed heartily, loud enough to fill the room and make Sakura wince. "Ha! The bonds of friendship are far stronger than such trivial pursuits!" He stepped toward them, eyes directly on her. "How do you do? I'm Maito Gai!"

"Haruno Sakura," she mumbled back, words drawn out in trepidation. He growled a yell that sent her leaning away from him.

"What a _beautiful_ name! And for such—"

"Gai."

"Oh, but Kakashi! I'm simply giving credit where—"

_"Gai."_

"Fine, fine!" He grinned, the essence of unfazed. He even gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Well, I came to tell you that I bear _excellent_ news from the world of competitive disco. You're looking at the number-three solo freestyler in the world!"

"Only number three?" Kakashi asked with a teasing edge just as Sakura thought _there's such a thing as competitive disco? And people actually do it?_

"Ahhh, Kakashi!" he shrieked. "This is just the beginning! You're not the only one with international success!" Another deep, energetic laugh, almost on the level of a guffaw. "Now if you'll excuse me, it seems I've forgotten my manners—I'll leave you two lovebirds to your conversation."

He sprinted out of the room and to the stairs, yelling "DISCO FEVER!", clomping down them at an alarmingly fast rate to join the laughter and noise and music on the main floor. What his oblivious green ass didn't realize is that he'd halted the entire conversation in its tracks—whatever the two of them were building toward had instantly dissipated, leaving Sakura feeling floundering and frustrated all over again. Her heart was still beating hard in her chest as she watched Kakashi scrub a hand through his fluffy silver hair.

"Guess it's time to do damage control." He faced her, one of his eyes creased into a half-moon.

"I should go," Sakura said. There was a foreign note in her voice that made it come out more quietly than usual. _She_ wanted to do some fucking damage control here, but there were too many goddamn people here to even try. If there was one thing Sakura really, really hated, it was not feeling in control of herself and whatever situations she put herself in.

"You sure?" He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I know the guy that lives here. He makes a pretty mean yakiniku spread."

"Oh, so Pakkun can cook now?" she snorted, getting off the bed.

"Absolutely. He also does my taxes."

The weirdest giggle rose in her throat. "Chill." She paused, fixing the scarf in her hair. "Actually, don't do that. You might flatline if you got any more mellow."

"That's not a bad idea." He put his hand back in his pocket, leaving his hair kind of disheveled. Sakura felt her stomach clench. "Might get me out of this little soirée."

"No offense, Kakashi, but…why do you let them come in and take over?" She thought about how Shikamaru always came in and messed with all her shit, acted like he owned the place, and how she only put up with it because it took less energy than physically kicking him out. It annoyed the living _hell_ out of her.

"Hm?" The look on his face was so irritatingly neutral. His blood pressure was probably nonexistent.

"I just mean, like…it's not really fair, I guess?" There was a huge likeliness that she was overstepping her bounds. She seemed to do that a lot with him. Unfortunately her curiosity won out every time. "They come here without any warning, then make you cook for them while they hang out and mess up your place. That doesn't seem very thoughtful."

Kakashi shrugged. "Eh. Maybe, maybe not."

The answer was simple enough to turn Sakura's face pink. She really needed to keep her mouth shut. Especially around him. Why did she keep ruining perfectly good conversations with him by putting her nose where it didn't belong?

"Sorry." She ran a sleeve-covered palm against her brow and shook her head. "That really was none of my business."

"No worries. That's probably how it looks, but they mean well." He gave her the laziest wink she'd ever witnessed. "In any case, I get free beer."

"True."

"Mah, don't feel bad." His hand was on her shoulder now, and the contact shot straight down her spine. "Come downstairs for a while. They'll tell you what you want to know."

On another day, she would have laughed at that—he probably had no idea how much she did want to know. About everything. His friends, his pictures, his dogs, him. But then again, Kakashi had pinned her from their first real conversation as being direct and had probably realized just how incapable she was at holding her tongue. So maybe he did know.

But what struck her the most about his offer that he was clearly asking her to stay. Despite how much of bumbling idiot asshole she'd been since the last time she saw him, he wanted her to stay. Something told her he wouldn't have offered if he didn't feel like keeping her around.

"Okay," she said before leading them out of the room, deciding not to remind him that his hand was still on her shoulder.

.

.

.

Once Kakashi had introduced her to everyone before they all ate, and once Yamato—of all people—had privately caught her up on a little bit of friend history and gossip, she could name them all without a problem.

Yamato himself she'd already met twice now and felt comfortable around. He was kind and easy to get along with, and surprisingly open as well. She noticed again that he had a tendency to be self-deprecating and a little awkward, but it was really endearing. He and Kakashi had been neighbors for years—hence entering through the backyard earlier—but had known each other since they were teenagers. He didn't explain how, which left Sakura dying to know, but he was kind of on a roll with this whole gossip thing—enough so that she wondered vaguely if anyone ever actually talked to him at these things, or if he simply lacked discretion. Likely a bit of both.

Kurenai and Anko she'd met first tonight, of course. They were both nurses, though Kurenai worked in the obstetrics ward and Anko in the neuro-ICU, and were friends since nursing school despite having gone to the same high school. Given the funny-catty way they spoke to each other, Sakura sensed that one of those popularity contests or a guy had gotten between them until they grew old enough to bond over it.

The bear man was Kurenai's husband, Asuma. Sakura got a good vibe from him—he seemed like a nice guy, yeah, but also like the type of person who gave good hugs and didn't judge easily. Yamato told her that Asuma was Kakashi's childhood friend and worked as middle school gym coach, so that probably had a lot to do with it. He and his wife were a very attractive couple and had a very natural, easy relationship. At least from what she could tell. It was nice to see. And Sakura would never admit that she was the tiniest bit relieved that Kurenai wasn't single.

Anyway.

The bald dudes weren't quite as scary as they'd come across upon first impression. They were almost like twin brothers or just really, really close friends. Cue ball man was Ibiki, who was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, and shaved head man was Baki, who was wearing a Metallica shirt. They were both security guards, were neighbors, and had met Kakashi by being frequent customers at his food truck. The two of them still freaked her out a little, but in a way that cracked her up more than anything. Yamato chuckled out loud when she said as much.

Speaking of freaking her out, Gai was the one that required the most explanation. He was a personal trainer, which was exceptionally appropriate, and he also competed in triathlons, races, charity events, and, most oddly, disco competitions. Apparently he and Kakashi had known each other since birth since their dads were friends, but they never really liked each other—Kakashi's father wanted him to play sports, so Gai would go out for the same team out of spite, trying to beat him; Kakashi would get really good grades, so Gai would study his ass off trying to keep up, even though he always got barely-passing grades. According to Yamato, the two of them had always hung out, mostly per Gai's insistence on maintaining their weird rivalry, but they hadn't become true friends until Kakashi returned home from college.

Something in Yamato's voice when he relayed the last part made Sakura immensely intrigued, but the guys called him over to the back porch _just_ before she could ask for the details. _Ugh, men._

"Hey, Sakura-chan!" Anko called, waving her fingers one by one as she sat atop the picnic table. Even in the darkness of the evening, her skin was glowing, flushed just a little from the beer she'd been drinking. "Come hang out with us."

 _"-chan?"_ Sakura grumbled, walking from her spot in the backyard over to her and Kurenai anyway. Her butt was damp from the grass. "What's up?"

"We want to talk to you about medical school." She gestured to the seat next to her feet, in front of which some leftover pieces of grilled steak with lemon juice and salt were waiting to be snatched up by the dogs. Sakura took a seat and decided to eat it for them, even when Guruko and Shiba came padding toward the table.

"So, what field of medicine are you studying?" Kurenai took a graceful sip of wine. Somehow her lipstick was still perfectly intact.

"I'm hoping to become a neurosurgeon." Absentmindedly, she reached out to scratch behind Shiba's ears. "Brains are cool."

"Cruel, but cool," Anko agreed, smirking. "How much longer do you have?"

"One more semester of school, and then I start my residency." She was so excited to start, too. She'd piled on classes until last semester just to get ahead and start early, though she'd had to slow her roll so she could earn enough money for tuition. It would be so unbelievably taxing, especially since Tsunade was the chief of medicine at the hospital her school sent all their residents to, but it would be so satisfying and worth the hard work.

"Good for you, girl. I can't imagine how much work you must be doing." Anko clinked her bottle against Sakura's wine glass—a fresh one which she was actually drinking this time. "The ICU alone is fucking brutal."

"Uh, seriously, _you_ should be the one getting kudos here. If the stories I've heard and the pictures have been any indication, I've really and truly got my work cut out for me." Guruko hopped onto the bench and into her lap, curling up close to her stomach. "How long have you been a nurse?"

And the conversation flowed easily from there. Anko and Kurenai both shared the details of their career, and all of them exchanged both horror stories and quality anecdotes from days on the job. Sakura couldn't remember the last time she'd talked about her future field of expertise so much; it was an extremely refreshing experience to discuss it with people who were not only genuinely interested, but knew all the insides and outs, the terminology and atmosphere that came with medical work. She'd almost forgotten where she was by the time they'd moved on to talk about Kurenai's three children.

"If you ever need a babysitter, I'm your woman," Sakura said after listening to the story of how her daughters had tried to dye each other's hair with pink lemonade mix. "If I can handle eight dogs, I'm pretty confident I can handle a few children."

Kurenai's laugh was easy, breezy, and yes, beautiful. "They'll love you, I'm sure. My youngest is a bit of a diva, but she's also very sweet when she wants to be. She'll probably worship you for your hair alone."

Sakura smiled. It wouldn't be the first time a kid had been fascinated with her hair color. But then she remembered the comment Kakashi had made about her shampoo, and her face started burning.

"I wish she liked _me,"_ Anko playfully griped. "Only Mirai puts up with me."

"That's only because you bribe her with milk bread," Kurenai replied in a sing-songy voice. "You know they're a little scared of you. Miki asked me once if you were a witch."

A loud clap sounded by Sakura's ear. She was surprised Anko didn't break one of those pointy nails as she cackled appropriately. "God, I remember that!"

While the two woman continued their lighthearted chat, Sakura chanced a glance up to where the guys were all gathered at the house. Some were inside watching the game; others were sitting on the porch in shitty old outdoor chairs. Kakashi was lounging in one of them beside Asuma; both of them were smoking while they listened to Baki explain something. Asuma must've been his chain-smoking friend, the one she'd asked about the last time she was here—it was a wonder that a sort-of-athlete married to a nurse hadn't quit by now, but Sakura couldn't do much about it.

And with what she was seeing, she _wouldn't_ do much about it.

Kakashi's mask was off, first of all, and he had his thumb set absently against his bottom lip, the cigarette poised close to his face between his pointer and middle fingers. The end burned and glowed orange in the semi-darkness. His eyes looked like they were about to fall closed any minute. When he brought the cigarette back to his mouth, he took a slow drag, sucking in his cheeks just enough to accentuate his excellent bone structure. She had to repress a dreamy sigh when he blew the smoke out in long plumes. _Jesus._ It was no wonder those things could kill people, she thought wryly, but she could also feel the heat rising up her neck again.

Suddenly, as if she'd called his name, he looked directly at her, and she just barely managed to hold back a small yelp of surprise. She instantly darted her eyes back to the dog in her lap.

"You know, it's a lot less obvious if you don't look away," Anko said, clearly amused.

"What is?" If she turned any pinker at this point she'd morph into a flamingo.

"Your crush on him," the woman sang quietly, teasingly, poking one of Sakura's too-flushed cheeks with the sharp tip of a nail. "It's adorable."

If she'd sounded even a _bit_ patronizing, Sakura would have punched her in the face, but thankfully for her it seemed pretty genuine. "I do _not—"_ She exhaled helplessly, hiding her face in her hands. "Okay. I do." And then, after a long pause and a groan: _"Fuck."_

She felt a hand on her shoulder—Kurenai, who had no small amount of humor in her voice. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"We haven't been," Sakura responded swiftly out of defensiveness. "I just walk his dogs."

"Ah, I see." Anko slid down beside her. "But I have to admit—I thought you guys were already involved."

She had good reason to be surprised, now that Sakura thought about it—when Kakashi introduced her to all of them, he'd simply said _this is Sakura,_ not _my dog walker Sakura,_ or _my friend Sakura,_ or _this violent dog-loving freak I picked up off the street named Sakura,_ or _Sakura, the girl that fucked me hard enough to make lesser men die._ He was so vague that it had made it sound…well, not vague.

"No," she mumbled. "Not really. Er, kind of. I have no idea what's going on."

"Tell us! We can help you! Right, Kurenai?"

"Does she look like someone who wants to talk about it?" Kurenai responded in that understanding, good-humored way all good moms possessed.

Perhaps it was hypocritical, but Sakura really didn't want to talk about it. Mostly for Kakashi's sake. Based on what she knew about him and how carefully Yamato avoided giving specifics about his past, he was probably really private about this stuff. Not to mention that it was high time she was more considerate of him. She didn't want to put them on any more of a bumpy road than she already had, so she kept her mouth shut, locking it with a deadbolt.

"Okay, well. Let me just say this." Anko's pointy fingernails tapped against the wooden table. "You're cute and have a huge crush on him. And clearly he likes you. No, no, hear me out." She smiled genuinely, though there was a playful twist to her mouth. "He invited you over on a Friday night. And he asked you to stay, even though we were here. _And_ he took the time to introduce you to each one of us. Kakashi doesn't do that stuff."

"You're sure he's not just being polite?" Sakura asked skeptically, though all that came to mind was their conversation in his room earlier. Her heart stuttered. And maybe fluttered a little too.

"Oh, I'm sure. He barely makes exceptions like that for _us."_

"What Anko's trying to say is not that Kakashi is a rude person," Kurenai interjected, placing a hand on Sakura's arm. "Not at all. It's more that he's very…difficult to get to know on a personal level, so it's pretty significant when he lets someone in. Even in small ways."

"Yeah, no, I didn't mean he was an asshole or anything." Anko let out a laugh at his expense, throwing dark hair over her shoulder. "He's actually pretty sweet. You see how he treats his dogs—and he lets us come and hang around even if it's mostly just to check up on him."

Sakura's radar pinged. "Check up on him?"

"Just because he's alone a lot," Kurenai said, almost too quickly. "He's incredibly introverted, so he tends to prefer it that way, which means we usually come here instead of dragging him to our places."

Her smile was meant to smooth things over, but Sakura filed that information away for later. Now wasn't the time to ask.

But what they said made sense. Kakashi _was_ introverted. He sought escapes at this party left and right: going outside to cook while everyone stayed inside; going up to his room to talk privately; sitting quietly the edge of the group as he listened to his friends chat, not participating but still present. And he _was_ sweet—sure, he was rife with a rather powerful form of sarcasm, but he'd never once said anything mean or condescending or hurtful despite the callous way she'd handled the last week. He bathed and handled his dogs with meticulous, specialized care; he made sure his friends had everything they needed before he ate his own food; he'd given Sakura personal space and heard her out when she wanted to apologize earlier, then told her there was nothing to apologize for.

Even though she hardly knew him, she knew Kakashi was a good man. And she liked him.

A _lot._

Her eyes drifted back his way and found him already looking at her. It sent a slight thrill through her system—at first, he seemed so blank and unaffected by anything, but then she noticed the tiniest lift to his mouth. Even more so when she took Anko's advice and held his gaze, offering a smile. She just hoped she didn't look as shy as she felt.

"You know, I think it's getting kind of late."

"I," Kurenai responded to her friend, "was just about to say the same thing." She tipped back the rest of her wine, finishing the glass with an elegant flourish.

"Wait, you guys are leaving?" Sakura turned back to them, blinking to clear her head.

"Yep. But you got this," Anko whispered with a grin, tightening the knot in Sakura's scarf before patting her head and standing up to leave. "Thank me later."

Kurenai stood up too and smoothed her dress out over her waist. "It was lovely to meet you, Sakura. We'll be in touch." Before she walked away, she leaned over her shoulder to say, "And I'm rooting for you."

And then with a single squeeze to her shoulder, the two women were off as quickly as they'd announced their departure, saying their goodbyes to Kakashi and retrieving the men they'd brought along. Sakura marveled at their perceptiveness, their tactfulness, and how inherent each trait was in both of them, how at ease and polished they were even in such a casual environment.

Guruko whined in her lap, looking up at her with big puppy eyes. She scratched between his ears.

"Do you think that's something that you get when you're older?" she asked, only sort of kidding. The dog's head flopped to one side. "I mean, do you think I'll ever be like that?"

He stared at her for a moment more before laying back down, head on her thigh. She laughed to herself as she smoothed a hand over his glossy fur.

_I guess only time will tell._

.

.

.

It took a good while to get everyone out of the house, but once they left, everything finally settled into a palpable calm. The lamps created warm light around the house now that it was deeper into the night. Crickets chirped softly outside, the dogs were asleep on the living room furniture, and the only other sound in the house was the gentle clinking of whatever dishes were left on the counter as Sakura helped Kakashi load them into his gigantic sink.

His guests had helped with much of the cleanup: Asuma took all the trash out while the baldies did the dishes, and Yamato had cleaned off the grill while the ladies packed up the unopened beers and leftover vegetables. They'd left after some lighthearted residual conversation and goodbye hugs. Sakura was genuinely pleased that they had all proven her wrong, but she was so, so glad that she and Kakashi were finally alone, that she could _finally_ talk to him without any noise or interruptions or cracked drywall.

She glanced over at Kakashi, who had been pretty silent since the end of the whole get-together. He was wearing pretty much the same thing, if not the exact same thing he'd been wearing the last time she was with him, and he looked so comfortable here in this kitchen, in his house. The conversation she'd had outside rang in her ears—when she saw how much he belonged here, how distinctly _his_ this place was, it was no wonder they all wanted to come here.

"You were right about your friends," she said as she placed the last stray utensil on the stack of used plates. "They do mean well."

"So you've seen the light," he drawled, somewhat teasing. He turned on the sink and rolled his sleeves up, then handed her a rag. "I'll wash, you dry."

"I feel like this is starting to become a theme," she giggled before her filter kicked in, then hopped up onto the wooden countertops to sit with her legs crossed like a pretzel. The smell of dish soap swirled through the air; little droplets of water misted outward and landed on the inch of counter bordering the sink.

"Only if you get wet again," he said distractedly, and then stopped. Color rose on his face fast—since he wasn't wearing a mask, she saw it spread all the way up his neck and ears and over his cheeks. It was distressingly attractive.

"Oh my God." She burst out laughing even though she was feeling hot—for more than one reason. "Did you really just say that?"

The sound of him clearing his voice was loud enough to be heard over the running faucet. "That—uh, anyway." Suds began to run off the sponge he was lathering over a plate. "Kurenai and Anko seemed to like you."

Sakura took in his half-slouch, his fading blush, and the way his thick gray hair fell over an impassive brow. Was he indirectly asking what they'd talked about? Is that why he kept looking at her when they were outside? Maybe she was reading too much into it, she thought as her teeth found her bottom lip, but she decided to take a chance on her assumptions.

"Yeah, we got along great. We mostly talked about medical stuff." She feigned nonchalance. "Oh, and about you."

He handed her a plate. "No wonder they left so soon."

She dried it off in circular motions, letting one foot fall out of her pose to nudge him in the side. "Give yourself a little more credit. You're kind of an enigma."

Another plate, delivered this time with an arched eyebrow. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"They said you weren't an asshole, in case you were wondering."

"That was nice of them."

Sakura stacked the clean plates beside her, watching the soap whirl down the drain. "And that you're really introverted."

He shrugged, pouring sudsy water out of a wine glass. "So to speak."

She took it from him and her fingers brushed his for a split second. Her stomach jumped, so she chose to watch herself dry the inside of the glass, how the water soaked into the cloth. "They, um…they also said that you like me."

His pause was so slight that she almost wondered if she'd imagined it.

"Did they."

He kept on cleaning, handing her a plate once it was thoroughly white again, and she took it with a bit of hesitance. "Well, do you?"

"It depends," he mused, turning off the sink and wiping his hands on his sweater. Then he turned to her, leaning a hip against the sink with a hand placed beside her leg, his eyes dark and lids heavy. "What do you think?"

Was it a trick question? Or did he really want to know? She couldn't tell. Her heart was pounding, and her leg moved just a bit to the left, enough so that she could feel his thumb against the side.

"I—"

The back door opened with a slam, one that jolted the dogs awake into a barking frenzy, paws skidding over the floor as they roared at the intruder.

"KAKASHI!" a thunderous voice boomed. Gai. "Have you seen my helmet anywhere? Safety is paramount!"

Kakashi froze. The distance between them—less physical and more emotional—grew at such a fast pace that Sakura immediately became more irritated than she'd been the whole week. Not once, but _twice_ this obnoxious fucking guy had come between her and a resolution to this catastrophe.

"Oh my fucking _God,"_ she shouted when she saw him enter the house. "Get out. Now."

Gai's bushy eyebrows knit together in shock. "Is something wrong, my young friend?"

 _"Yes!_ You're—you're—" She couldn't find the word, so she chose the first one that came to mind: "You're cockblocking me!"

Gai's eyes grew the size of saucers. Kakashi coughed. The dogs stopped barking.

_Shit._

"Uh," Kakashi began flatly. "I think it's on the sofa. Under Bull."

"Ah," Gai replied awkwardly, turning to retrieve his helmet where it was wedged beneath the dog. He waved it above his head. "Indeed. I'll…"

"Yeah. See you."

Sakura wanted to melt into the counter and then run onto the floor, even more so when the door closed behind Gai and Kakashi side-eyed her curiously. She covered her face with her hands before she could register any other weird looks he might give her. They were so warm that it was uncomfortable.

"That was _not_ what I meant to say," she said, voice muffled by her palms.

"Freudian slip?" There was enough humor in his voice that she groaned out of shame.

"I feel like I do that a lot around you."

"What?" Oh, so _now_ he was amused. Of course. She huffed out a sigh.

"Fuck up our conversations by opening my huge, stupid mouth." Her back curled to let her make herself smaller, hopefully tiny enough to dissolve into thin air. But suddenly his hands, cool from washing dishes, were on her wrists, trying to pry hers off her face. She didn't budge.

"Let me see something," he said, running a thumb over the back of her hand. That did it—she let him put her hands in her lap and glanced up at him, and his sleepy eyes roamed the lower part of her face for a few seconds. "Hmm. Looks fine to me."

"Stooop." She smacked him lightly on the arm. "I'm serious. And I'm frustrated as hell. I keep getting interrupted."

"Is that the word you were looking for?" He smiled from one side of his mouth, just a little, and she had to use all her power not to lean forward and kiss him—even if he was messing with her.

"Kakashi."

"Okay, okay. Understood." He put his hands up in a half-assed surrender, which was a problem because the gesture removed them from her own. "Go ahead. I won't say anything until you're finished."

"Good." She looked down to where hers were still tangled in her lap, gathering the words before taking a deep, collecting breath.

"So, like I said earlier," she started, "I'm sorry for what happened on Sunday, because I have no idea what got into me and I never do this kind of thing. Ever." Her leg bounced beneath the hands that were keeping it in place. "And I felt just a tiny bit better when Kurenai and Anko made it sound like you don't really do that kind of stuff either—you know, the whole…" She whirled her hands around, trying to pull the phrase from the air. "Casual hookup? Thing? I guess that's what it's called. But that's not the point right now."

As promised, Kakashi didn't say anything. She didn't even look at his face, worrying that she'd lose her train of thought if she started wondering what he was thinking.

"I was a total dick for jumping you all of a sudden, and then doing…what we did all day, and then leaving once you fell asleep. It was really cowardly of me, and I felt like shit about it all week." She sucked in a deep breath and let it go. "And then I felt even _more_ like shit because I was trying to deny the fact that I have a humongous crush on you, so I was too nervous to text you, which is weird for me because I normally just face things head-on. And then I didn't even take your feelings into account when I was texting you, especially when I forgot to text you back, and I felt like _such_ a jackass when Hidan told me that I probably hurt your feelings by making you think I was avoiding you and just wanted money. So I came here to apologize, but there were too many people, and even though I'm really happy I talked to your friends, the only thing I wanted to do all week was talk to you."

Her fingers twisted together hard, knotting over each other at strange angles. "I'm sorry. And I know I've only really known you for a few days, but I really, really like you. So…yeah."

There was a moment of silence where she tried to remembered what had just exited her mouth. She felt like she'd said everything she came to say, even if it was a babbling mess of an apology-slash-confession. She dared to glance up at Kakashi. He was scratching at the back of his neck, eyes elsewhere.

"Is there anything else?" he asked, looking at her and then looking away. Oh God, was he _embarrassed?_

"No." Her voice was strained. She was starting to think she'd never catch a break. "Actually, yes. I…kind of…I wanted to know your thoughts on the whole situation."

"My thoughts?" He said the words like he was repeating something from another language. Sakura nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Like—what you were thinking about all of this. And don't sugarcoat it."

Based on the tension in his stance, Kakashi still didn't seem to get it. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead before it fell perfectly back into disheveled place.

"Hmm. Well. I…had a good time last weekend, obviously." Now he was definitely embarrassed. "I figured you regretted it, though, so I tried to give you some space."

 _Oh my God,_ Sakura thought, chest squeezing terribly with guilt all her own. _Oh my God, I'm the worst person ever._

"But," he continued after a moment, smiling with creasing eyes, "I'm glad you came today."

She dared to feel alleviated by that. "Really?"

"Yeah." He leaned a bit closer, inspecting her face. God, he smelled so good. "Now, what else?"

Sakura shifted. Her emotions were going haywire, all caught in chaos in her head. She wanted to ask more, but she'd said her piece, and she didn't want to push him if that was all he had to say about it. "I think I said everything."

"Are you sure? I'm still listening." He actually looking at her now, dead in the eyes, which made her spine go straight. She managed a small smile.

"Yeah. That's all." She nodded, pulling her sleeves up over her fingers. "I'm sure."

"Good."

She wasn't expecting him to kiss her, so when he put a hand on the curve of her shoulder and gently brought her forward to do just that, her eyes flew wide open—but it wasn't even two seconds before she responded fittingly, closing her eyes, letting her mouth move with his and her hands smooth up his chest, over his shoulders to meet at the back of his neck. _Yes._

His hair was just as soft as she remembered, softer than any of his dogs, and she let her fingers run through it slowly, nails raking over his scalp. She let her legs fall from the counter before wrapping them around his hips, scooting herself forward so that she could get even closer, could pull his head down to breath him in and taste the tobacco on his tongue.

Kakashi made a noise in the back of his throat, low and humming. Then he pulled her closer.

Apparently there was no more talking to be done, and she'd never been more glad for it. Some actions spoke much louder than words.

.

.

.

When she returned home that night—that morning, more accurately—Shikamaru was still in her apartment, watching the tournament on her sofa as promised. She couldn't possibly have found it in her to care. Everything felt golden and rosy, even if a lot of that was in big part to her decorative lantern.

"I'm not waiting up, just to be clear," he grumbled, voice thick with a lack of sleep. Sakura dropped her purse in the kitchen, then walked over the the couch and plopped on top of him, laying down so her hair was in his face and her feet were on his shins. "What the"—he blew his lips out—"what the hell?"

She sighed. "I think your dad's officially off the market for me, Shikamaru."

"Oh." He thought about this for a minute, and then with more emphasis: _"Oh_. Okay. It's about time."

"Yeah," Sakura said, deciding to fall asleep on him. "It is."

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. steamy
> 
> 2\. my apologies for how horrendously long this chapter is, but it flowed the best this way. 
> 
> 3\. shoutout to Team Miriku (on ffnet) and bluefurcape bc y'all are the best luv u
> 
> 4\. don't forget to leave comments! they help me out so much and I'd really love to know what you all are thinking, especially with the new developments.
> 
> until next update xoxo


	5. tick tock

Ah, Saturday. Beautiful, wonderful, perfect Saturday. The sun shone through the dated glass blocks on her shower wall, making them look like some kind of glittering crystal. Birds were perched on buildings outside, chirping happily as she enjoyed a warm, wonderful mug of coffee on her sofa sans pseudo-roommate. Her clothes smelled fresh as daisies, even if they were just a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. The weather was deliciously crisp on her walk to the subway station, and there was even a seat next to a nice old lady once she stepped on board a noticeably uncrowded train.

On this particular weekend morning, Sakura felt remarkably well-rested, which was likely in great part to finally fessing up and expunging all feelings of guilt and awfulness thanks to Kakashi's sweet reassurances. She could sense how much lighter she felt as she jogged up the stairs of the subway exit near his neighborhood, as she walked through the streets and up the slight incline to meet the dogs at his house, and as she unlocked the door and tiptoed inside, hoping to catch their owner unawares.

The second she was inside, as usual, every single one of the puppies found her in the hallway, tags jingling merrily and paws slipping over the floor as they trotted toward her. She bent down to greet them individually.

"Good morning, babies," she sang, hugging a droopy-faced Bull when he nosed her on the hip and offering Pakkun her palm to lick. Urushi was bounding restlessly around her knees, so she let him roll over and scratched at his belly. Bisuke didn't like to be touched by her still, so she smiled at him. "Where's your dad?" She picked up Guruko so he could lick her face, then pet Shiba on the back a few times, then scratched behind Akino's ears before she let them all follow her into the rest of the house.

The kitchen was spotless save for the dishes still stacked in the sink. Sakura bit her lip, smiling coyly, though she did wonder if he'd eaten breakfast before heading to work. Unless, of course, he was still asleep…

She tiptoed up the stairs, listening closely to see if she could maybe hear him breathing. She'd left late last night—while he was awake this time, and after letting him drive her home since the subways had stopped running—and it _was_ the weekend, so there was a good chance of him sleeping in. The dogs didn't try to follow her up the staircase, which she noticed for the first time, and she wondered if he'd trained them not to. Whatever it was, it made it a lot easier to sneak up on him.

She glided on down the wooden floors of the hall and toward the bedroom, then whipped her head around the open doorframe once she was in position against the wall. Unfortunately all that greeted her was a perfectly made bed and an empty bathroom.

"Boo," she pouted, traipsing back down the stairs. "Guess it's time for a walk."

Even though she was mumbling to herself, Shiba started jumping around her legs once she said _walk,_ and a few of the others enthusiastically joined in, tags clinking as they all panted in unison.

"Okay, okay." She giggled when Bisuke yipped at her. "I'm going." They all crowded her on the way to where Kakashi kept their things.

It was a room by the laundry room, one big enough for her to assume that its original purpose was to be used as a bedroom. Inside was a perfectly organized cabinet for their leashes, individual baskets for their toys, and what looked like seasonal collars—there were ones with Christmas and Halloween themed designs, as well as ones for different festivals. All of their food was labeled; each dog had their own set of bowls, and some had certain medicine or their own treats set aside. It wasn't a surprise that Kakashi cared so much about his dogs. Not at all. But now that she was getting to know him, it put things into context, and she found herself grinning at the tiniest things—his scratchy handwriting, his attention to detail, the array of costumes and pillows he'd picked out for each dog.

Once she made sure the one or two empty bowls had been filled, she opened the cabinet where the leashes hung and stopped short. There was a piece of paper hanging smack dab in the middle of them, stuck to the handle of Bull's leash.

"Huh," she breathed, taking the paw-shaped paper between her fingers to read.

_since you have a history of not reading my text messages, here's a note for you. call me when you and the dogs get back._

It was signed with a henohenomoheji, too. She snorted, pulling her phone out of her purse to call him, putting it on speaker so she could get the pups ready to go.

_"Yo,"_ he answered on the third ring. The inside of the cabinet made his voice echo and sound much louder than he'd probably actually said it. _So perfunctory,_ she thought with a healthy amount of sarcasm. But it wasn't like she was expecting a _good morning_ or _hello, beautiful_ or anything like that. No, that would be silly.

"I got your note," she called back, clipping leashes onto Shiba and Pakkun simultaneously. "Looks like someone was feeling sassy this morning."

She heard him chuckle even though there were a lot of hissing, clattering noises in the background. _"Just covering all my bases."_

Her lips pressed together, trying not to smile. "Are you working right now?"

_"Mhmm. A bit slow today, though."_ Something beeped. _"How are the dogs?"_

"Cute and adorable." Akino was nuzzling his nose into her hand as she put on his leash. His goggles were a bit askew, so she gently righted them.

_"As can only be expected."_ He sounded mildly put-upon, though it was only to be facetious, she was sure. _"I'm assuming you haven't taken them out yet."_

She stood up straight and squinted at where the phone sat by the dry food. "How do you know that?"

_"Well,"_ he mused, _"after I left the house, I realized that there was no way you'd wait more than a minute to call after seeing the note."_

"Why not?"

_"Because."_ More clanging noises rang out, and all she could imagine was a spatula hitting a flattop grill. _"First of all, as you pointed out, I made a sassy comment."_ Now she imagined one of those lazy-ass winks. _"Secondly, I knew that if you were going to talk to me today, you'd do it when you wanted to—which, as I'm starting to learn, is usually immediately. You don't mess around."_

The casual tone of his voice, purely observational, made her actually…kind of pleased that he'd noticed so much about her. And it didn't make it sound like an insult as it would've sounded coming from anyone else she knew. She wasn't going to let him have it _that_ easily, though.

"You sure are confident. What makes you think you're right?" She tried to sound as flirty as she could herding eight separate leashes onto her arms—which, granted, wasn't very much.

_"Like I said: I'm learning."_ There was a smile in his voice, Sakura was positive. _"How are you this morning?"_

She let herself smile back now, mouth curving and teeth running over her bottom lip. "I'm great, actually. How are you, Kakashi?"

_"Just lovely."_

Sakura was glad she'd taken it off speaker and that her phone was wedged between her ear and shoulder—she was able heard the words in all their marvelous, super-chill, deep-voiced glory. If the dogs weren't rearing to go, she might have even allowed for a sigh.

_"I'll finish up here and be back at the house in an hour."_

"Wait, really? Why?"

_"Oh, I, uh…thought we could run some errands."_ A pause. _"If you wanted to, of course."_

If she'd had a free hand, she would have smacked herself in the face. "No, I'm sorry. I definitely want to. I just meant…what about work?"

_"Ah."_ The humor was back in his voice. _"The perks of being your own boss."_

She'd been referring more to the potential cuts on his paycheck, but then she remembered that not everyone in the world had to worry about hourly wages and pinching pennies. Especially not former rocket scientists. "Oh, yeah. True. I'll see you soon, then?"

There was a small moment of silence before he responded. _"Yeah,"_ he said with an odd tone, almost like he'd just remembered something. _"Soon, then."_

_._

_._

_._

Kakashi had a car, which was an experience in and of itself.

There was first the question of why he had both the car and the food truck, which Sakura had asked no less than five seconds after stepping into the garage across the street last night. He'd answered her with a simple explanation:

"Court mandated."

She'd gaped at him. "Um, should I be worried?"

Then he'd eye-smiled as if she hadn't just halfway accused him of being some kind of criminal or ex-convict. "Let's just say Gai, food trucks, and drag racing aren't a good mix."

Apparently Gai's and his competitions had never stopped being a thing. The most he ended up explaining about the situation was that because of a race they'd done at four in the morning, wherein both of them ended up in the hospital, he now wasn't allowed to take the food truck anywhere out of a two-and-a-half kilometer radius from his house. That explained why he was usually in this area, she realized.

And then he'd topped off the recap with a short statement: "But the silver lining here is that I won."

Sakura had just stared at him until he guided her into the passenger side of his creaky, squeaky, ugly van—which took a _lot_ of convincing to get into until he explained that he drove it for the cargo space. Not only for his dogs, but for stocking up on food and supplies, which was what they were doing this morning.

She put her feet up on the scuffed dashboard, stuck her arm out the window to feel the thick breeze move in waves. It ruffled her hair and tickled at her neck while they rode through town. She glanced over at Kakashi in his old sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up toward his elbows as he kept a loose hold on the steering wheel, the surgical mask and sunglasses he wore, and the way his hair fluttered against his forehead. If his clothes weren't fraying at the edges and his posture were a bit better, he probably could have been mistaken for a celebrity.

"See something you like?" He used his palm to move the wheel as they slowly turned the corner. She wiggled her toes against her sandals and grinned without even realizing it.

"Nope." She popped the _p_ on the end of the word. "I'm, um…just wondering what the hell kind of music this is."

"How dare you," Kakashi said in the flattest possible tone. "This is a classic."

It was something in English, something that sounded very eighties, but she wasn't sure she'd ever heard it. After a moment he started humming the tune lower than it was being sung, and Sakura decided right then and there that she wouldn't complain about his music choices ever again.

"Do you sing?" she asked after a minute, absently curling her wrist through the air. The answer would likely be a negative, though she crossed her fingers and hoped for the opposite.

"Not if I can help it," he mumbled. "Pakkun sings, though. Opera." The humming immediately resumed once the words were out. She narrowed her eyes at him and tried not to laugh. _This weirdo._

"Never would've guessed. He looks more a conductor type." Her gaze fell to the backseat where Pakkun stood on all fours, looking out the window as best as he could from such a low vantage point.

"He gets that a lot. But I'll have you know that 'Pakkun' is short for 'Pavarotti-kun.'"

Sakura snorted. "Shut up." Before he could say anything else, she said, "Remind me why we only brought him again?"

"Ah, yes. It's a big day for him." Kakashi looked at her briefly. "We're going to see his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Was he speaking in metaphors again? One of her eyebrows rose along with her heart rate.

"Mhmm. Shiromaru. She's an older woman." He lowered his voice into a mock whisper, as if they were a pair of gossiping old ladies. "Very scandalous."

"Ohhh," Sakura cooed. No metaphors. Unless she was Pakkun in this situation. She decided to stop while she was ahead. "Where does she live?"

"Around the corner." He gestured vaguely to somewhere up ahead, so she chose to focus on their surroundings and see if she could figure out exactly where they were headed. They were in a quieter area already, one with a bunch of small apartment buildings and attached houses, none of them more than two or three floors; all of them had charming little window boxes full of flowers and bins for recycling sitting out front. Considering its narrowness and the small amount of people and pets in the road, this seemed more like a street for walking than driving. Was Shiromaru a stray? One of the two dogs lounging by the popsicle fridge outside the corner store?

Kakashi turned said corner before he pulled the van into a driveway it barely fit into, one situated in front of a house with several wind chimes and lines of colorful string lights hung in the open window. Rock music was wafting out with the scent of whatever was cooking. She could already smell something yummy, something rich and warm and satisfying…and strangely familiar.

"We won't be here long. She's, uh, not a big fan of lingering." He turned off the car. "But she doesn't bite."

Her feet slipped down from their perch near the windshield. "Are you still talking about the dog, or…?"

"Well, her too, but—"

A hard squealing noise interrupted him. "You comin' in or not?"

They both looked over to find a woman standing in the front doorway, apron on and big wooden spoon in hand as she waited there expectantly. Her hair was short and brown and halfway permed, and she had on full makeup, lipstick and all, but was still in a nightgown. Sakura liked her already: in several ways, this woman's appearance and general demeanor reminded her of Tsunade.

"Yup." Kakashi, all liquid calm as usual, got out of the car at a lethargic pace, then slid open the back door to let Pakkun hop out as well. Following suit, Sakura let the two of them get to the door first to greet this mystery lady.

"Looks like you brought the party with you." She used the sauce-covered spoon to guide Pakkun inside the house. "Go on, kid."

Pakkun sneezed at her and trotted inside at his own pace, which made Kakashi chuckle.

"And you," she said, pointing the spoon at him now, "are not supposed to be here until five. What's the rush, huh?"

An eye smile graced the upper half of his face. "I was so excited to see you that I simply couldn't wait."

She rolled her eyes with a grimace. "Yeah, okay. I think you're getting me confused with this one." Now she looked at Sakura in slightly friendlier manner. "What's your name, sweetie?"

Sakura's spine went straight. She felt like anything but a _sweetie_ in this woman's presence. "Haruno Sakura. I'm—"

"Kakashi-kun's girlfriend, I'm guessing. Come on in." She even stepped outside to make way for her and Kakashi to go in at the same time. "I'm Inuzuka Tsume. Basically the reason this little shit gets any business."

"Nice to meet you." Sakura was going to try and stammer her way through an explanation—it was probably _way_ too soon for a label like that, especially for someone as emotionally reserved as Kakashi—but he put an arm around her shoulders in this very unthinking way, and the words kept themselves at bay in her head where they probably belonged. The two of them walked inside and slipped off their shoes.

"She's only half-right," Kakashi stage-whispered so that Tsume would hear. "She does most of the cooking, but I have all the charm."

Her arm found its way around his lean, solid waist. She relished seeing him in a moment like this, so much looser and more comfortable then he'd been the night before. It was really cute. So cute, in fact, that she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose and smile up at him even though he wasn't looking.

"Keep telling yourself that, Kakashi- _kun,_ " she teased back.

"Yeah. 'Charm' my ass," Tsume scoffed. "The only time I find you charming is when I get the receipt for your deposits."

"Mah, give a working man a break."

Sakura laughed out of politeness. _Interesting._ Were they business partners or what? She wanted to ask, but then they stepped into the kitchen, and she lost her whole train of thought.

Save for the sheer amount of dogs, this was the complete antithesis of Kakashi's house. The floor tiles were mismatched from several patching jobs; the counter was cluttered full of cookbooks and bags of chips and dog food and dishes; there were huge pots on the stove with sauce dripping over, baking onto the sides and surrounding surfaces. There were at least four big golden retrievers lying in various positions around the dinner table by the front window, all of whom jumped up at their entrance.

"Speaking of deposits…" Tsume continued, walking to the stove. Despite their evident curiosity at the new arrivals—Sakura especially—the dogs all followed her over there, lingering at her feet dutifully. Or perhaps they were trying to taste whatever she was stirring.

"Monday," Kakashi responded simply. "Promise."

"I trust you." She stirred the other pot. Just by the way her arm flexed Sakura could tell that this was more than soup. And then that rich, spicy smell pinpointed itself in her memory—it couldn't have been anything other than chili.

"I'd do it today, but the bank's already closed…" He scratched at his neck. "Brought those expense reports, though. The ones from January."

"Thank God for that. My accountant's been bouncing off the walls without 'em."

"Mm."

Tsume turned, and the dogs turned with her, their precious shiny black eyes landing on Sakura. "You hungry? Thirsty?"

"I'm fine," she replied. She'd actually eaten breakfast this morning, which was kind of a first. "Thank you, though."

"Suit yourself." The woman tossed a rag onto the counter, looking to Kakashi with her piercing eyes. "I want to see if these need more cumin before I hand them off to you, so go ahead and give her the grand tour."

"That's code for 'get the hell out,'" he explained to Sakura with an eye smile. His arm was solid on her shoulders, guiding her out of the kitchen and toward the hallway. "Let's go see if we can find Pakkun, shall we?"

"'Kay." She felt like she could agree to anything he asked right now. There was a newness to all of this—something about the way the morning light filtered into this stranger's cozy, eclectic house, one that was so clearly familiar to him, and the echo of good classic rock through the halls had Sakura slipping into an inexplicable lightness; some soft, malleable thing that left her willing to explore whatever came her way today. She was starting to think that learning about Kakashi was her new favorite thing to do.

They passed a bunch of family pictures hanging on the wall as they made their way into the living room—most of which were of dogs, much like Kakashi's own house, though some were of people who could only be Tsume's children given the similarities in their hair and facial features. The den was a small room crammed to the brim with furniture for both animals and humans, tables and cabinets and plush old chairs gathered there in abundance. On the sofa was someone whose feet poked over the edge of one armrest. Sakura pointed in question, raising a brow at Kakashi.

"Oh, yeah." He seemed to smirk beneath his mask. "Morning, Kiba."

The only response was a deep rip of a snore. Sakura laughed a bit, peering over the back to see this Kiba. What she found did not disappoint: he was a tall boy with light brown skin and dark brown hair, the same one from a few of the pictures in the hallway. There was some kind of makeup smeared all over his face along with a bunch of red kiss marks on one cheek. He was snoring open-mouthed with a hand on his naked chest, wearing Spider-man boxers and using a towel as a blanket. He was in excellent shape, Sakura noted with appreciation as her eyes momentarily traced the definition in his stomach muscles, though he was no Kakashi. Unlike her preferred party, however, Kiba had something she would only expect from a person like Hidan: nipple piercings.

"Oh my god," she whispered loudly, glancing back at Kakashi. "Who _is_ this guy? I think he's wearing body glitter."

"Tsume's son." He put his arm back on her shoulder, trying to gently pry her away. "Might not want to wake him up. He's probably still drunk, and he's also pretty well-versed in sexual harassment."

"Wait a second! I've never seen nipple piercings up close! You at _least_ have to let me take a look."

Kakashi wasn't quite as enthralled. "Suit yourself, but I'm just saying: not a great idea. You could always ask Anko instead."

The suspicious glare made its way to her face before she'd even had the thought to make it. "She has them?"

"Mhmm. If she'd stayed for two more beers last night, she probably would've flashed you."

Either he was being perfectly casual about this or a little _too_ casual. "So…you've seen them?"

"Uh-huh."

Sakura restrained herself from biting her lip. Anko's extremely curvaceous figure came to mind, and damn if she wasn't a little jealous at the thought that Kakashi had seen such beautiful breasts—presumably, of course—from someone he saw all the time. Someone who was sexy and confident and much closer to his age than she was. And then she recalled that Anko was single, and so comfortable in Kakashi's house, and kept asking after him…and then she'd left early…was it under a pretense of letting Sakura have him? Was she pissed or something?

"Did you two sleep together?" she mumbled, feeling very young again. Especially when Kakashi reacted with a deep, true confusion, evident in the way his dark silver eyebrows furrowed together.

"Me and Anko?" He blinked. "Why would we?"

"I dunno. Because she's hot? And cool? And kind of scary…but in a sexy way?" She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to channel his blasé attitude and failing.

"I can't exactly argue with that," Kakashi said dryly, humoring her. "But no, we haven't. She's been a very good friend to me, so that's one reason, but I'm also not her type."

Somehow she doubted that. Physically speaking, at the _very_ least, Kakashi wasn't exactly a niche kind of attractive.

After she didn't say anything, he put a hand by his mouth and leaned in. "She likes women, Sakura."

"Oh." And then, with much more feeling behind it: "Wait—she does?"

"Yup. I'm surprised you didn't notice." He stood up at his full height again—well, as much as he could with his slight, automatic slouch. "She told me before they left that she'd been laying it on pretty thick."

"Laying what on?" It was her turn to blink. "You don't mean…she was flirting with me?! I didn't even realize!"

"Are you disappointed?" Now he was definitely amused, the fucker.

"Yes!" Her face was starting to turn pink, she could feel it. "I would have been…well, extremely flattered." Her blush deepened when his eyes met hers.

"Should I be worried?" he mused, tone smooth and lilting. "First you come in here ogling Kiba, a much younger and more strapping man than I, all while trying to fondle his chest, and then I find out your own naïveté just barely saved me from losing your affections to my very scary, very sexy friend. I have to say, I'm feeling a little insecure."

Sakura snorted lightly, mostly for his benefit, but wondered how much of that last part was only for the sake of a joke. "If you wanted your chest fondled, all you had to do was ask."

What she could see of his face took on a rather shy, though very subtly suggestive look, and a blush of his own crept onto the skin not covered by his mask. "I'll…uh, keep that in mind."

"Go fondle somewhere else," someone else chimed in, rasping heavily. It was Kiba, who shifted around on the sofa, eyes scrunched closed. "Whoever you are. Tryin' to fuckin' sleep here."

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Sakura giggled.

This time she let Kakashi guide her away and out of the room, moving toward a dim hallway out of the sunlight which streamed through the windows. They passed an open bedroom on the way down the hall, the sheets rumpled and pillows askew on the bed within, and then a laundry room covered in piles of unwashed laundry. There was a calm to this messiness that made the whole house feel so lived-in and cozy, like a childhood friend or favorite cousin's home. She smiled to herself, thinking of the years she'd spent in Tsunade's similarly disheveled household.

"You're lucky he's falling back asleep," he said once they were out of earshot. "He would have found you particularly…enticing."

"Really?" There were bits of teasing in her tone, as well as excitement. _Damn, Sakura,_ she thought with a big mental grin, _you're really killing it lately._ If only those bitches who used to make fun of her forehead could see her now.

"Unfortunately."

She stopped walking and smiled, tugging on his hand to stop him too when he continued walking. He looked to her with question.

"Do _you_ find me particularly enticing?" she asked with a small laugh, drawing him closer. His skin was warm where it touched hers. The feeling of his hands sliding along her waist was more than welcome.

"Hmm." There was a animated note to his hum. "I'd say there's a good chance."

Sakura stood on her tiptoes to remove his mask and plant a big smooch on his lips. "You know, last night…"

"Mm?"

"You, uh, never said whether or not you liked me."

He didn't react much except to place his palms against the curve of her lower back. "I believe I did." He leaned down to bridge the gap in their heights, letting his nose brush against hers. She could smell the clean scent of his face wash, feel the warmth of his breath. "Several times, if I'm remembering right."

Another smooch covered the delighted resurgence of her flush. "Oho, look who's flirting now." Her hands found the back of his neck, soft and smooth. "Can I ask you something?"

Kakashi chuckled faintly and she could feel it in his chest. It may or may not have turned her on a little bit.

"Is it whether or not I like you?" His sleepy gaze met her alert one, curious and extremely attractive. Scoldingly as she could, she tugged at the hair that rested between her fingers.

"That too, you butthead," she retorted. "But no. It's…um…are you really feeling insecure?"

A sort of deflating wave passed through him, one that barely showed in his shoulders. "If I say yes, will you fondle my chest?"

"Just answer the question," Sakura whined, tugging his hair once more, but more gently this time.

"Sakura." He leaned his forehead against hers, though she wasn't sure whether it was an indication of exasperation or intimacy. "Considering it's the—third?…Technically the third day of this new and…remarkably strange thing we have going, I think it's a bit early to start worrying."

"Yeah, but…" She could tell he was patiently waiting for her to finish, so she tried to find the words. "I'm a worrier. Clearly."

His mouth curved into a lopsided, defibrillating smile, a little self-conscious at the edges. _Sweet baby Jesus._ Maybe they were only three days in, but she had the distinct feeling she'd never get tired of seeing that.

"Hopefully there will be plenty of time for that later." His hands pulled her closer by her waist. She could feel his abdomen against her stomach, all firm and toned, and felt like she was melting. "You should enjoy me as much as you can before you realize you like my friends better than me. Or that I'm too lazy in bed. Or that my emotional baggage is too heavy to carry."

Sakura, as usual, couldn't tell if he was joking, though it sounded like he was. He'd dipped his head toward her neck enough where she couldn't see his expression.

Her mouth twisted down to one side. She really wanted to get down to the meat of it all—or the bone, more like, since she knew herself. She'd always, _always_ been the type to overthink her relationships and hookups. But today was going so well, for _once_ with them…and she loved seeing Kakashi feel free enough to flirt and touch her effortlessly, and to imply that he wasn't going anywhere. Yet. That was reassuring enough to let her trust that she would settle whatever was on her mind in due time.

"It's a good thing I have strong arms, then," she whispered into his ear, allowing for a smirky smile.

His chin met her shoulder. "You do. I thought you were going to choke me out last weekend."

Another wave of heat seeped into her cheeks. He wasn't too far off. "I can do it now, if you want."

"Uh, maybe that should wait until we get back to my place," Kakashi said, voice a bit tight now. _Bingo._

"Maybe," she replied. "I guess we could always just play with Pakkun instead. I'm pretty sure I saw him in that dark, quiet, _empty_ bedroom over there…"

And by the time she saw the pink spreading over Kakashi's face, she'd already pulled him halfway through its door.

.

.

.

Sakura snorted again, loud enough to be heard over whatever eighties song was playing in the van.

"Mah, Sakura," Kakashi voiced from his spot in the driver's seat, shoulders hunched toward the steering wheel. "It's bad enough already."

Now she really couldn't hold back—her whole body shook with laughter, giggles pitched up high and nose scrunching enough to close her eyes.

"Sorry, but—" She had to stop to laugh again. "I've never seen someone try to spank a grown man before. Not in, like, a _mom_ way, at least. _God."_

"As I said before, Tsume doesn't like lingering," he said with a minutely less embarrassed note to his tone. "So I'd imagine she doesn't enjoy seeing her business partner make out with a stranger on her bed."

"Kakashi, I was literally leaving a hickey on your chest while your hands were in my bra."

The flush that crept up his neck and ears was beyond satisfying. "Well, there _is_ that."

Her giggle rose in her throat again, rivaling a squeak by the time she could speak again.

"I'm gonna assume I'm officially uninvited from any future chili pick-ups?"

"I'm the one who invited you, so…hmm, not likely." They slowed to a stop at a red light and he turned to face her, a deceptively innocent smile already creasing his eyelids. "Next time, we'll just have to use Kiba's room."

That had her laughing harder than the rest of the little catastrophe.

.

.

.

The hiccup with Tsume aside, the remainder of their afternoon was pretty close to perfect. It was almost like whatever corny—entertaining, of course, but corny nonetheless—rom-coms Sakura had imagined all week when concocting a plan for approaching Kakashi. Not only was the weather still absolutely gorgeous, but they took advantage of it by walking through the park she always took the dogs to, heading to the open market to shop for fresh dinner ingredients, and eating lunch at a cute restaurant with lots of outdoor seating.

Not that Pakkun was high maintenance, but since they'd left him at the Inuzuka household to spend more time with the elusive Shiromaru, it gave her and Kakashi some quality time together. It was the first time they'd been completely alone since they met, she realized, and when she relayed as much to him he simply chuckled.

"If we asked the dogs nicely, they'd probably give us some privacy."

She pushed his arm playfully. "You are such a _smartass."_

He smiled at her, totally innocuous. "I've been called worse."

Sakura's eyes rolled as she tucked her hair behind her ears. The light breeze had been tousling it throughout their time outside and now it was a mess, but thankfully her companion didn't seem to mind. Probably because he'd had a part in making it look the way it did.

"Wait, though. Is that why they never go upstairs?" She took a big sip of her ice water, watching his neutral expression for any signs of giveaways. As if he had any.

"Nope. That's just a side effect of my allergies. Figured I needed one room that wasn't covered in fur." He shrugged, turning his fork absentmindedly around in deft fingers. It was distressingly attractive.

"What's the constantly-made-up bed a side effect of?" she asked, trying to suppress a smile at his expense.

"Hmm." His dark eyes flicked down to the utensil in his hand. "That's mostly because I fall asleep on the sofa every night."

"Oh. Geez." _Fighting allergies, my ass._ The pups probably fell asleep right on top of him too. "No wonder your back is so bad," she blurted without thinking.

He raised a brow, waiting for her to elaborate. The way the sunlight slanted into his eyes made them look gray instead of almost-black, and for a second she forgot what she was going to say.

"I, um." Sakura took another sip of water. "One of my jobs is at an acupuncture clinic you used to go to. My boss is basically the reason I knew you ran the food truck."

"Ah," he nodded in a wise, sort of amused manner, grayish eyes twinkling with recognition. "That explains your shirt, then."

She glanced down at her outfit, realizing that she was indeed wearing the shirt Hidan had given her that one time he spilled cherry soda all over her good blouse. Technically he'd only _loaned_ it to her, but it was so roomy and comfortable that there was never a chance he would get it back. It was a faded heather gray shirt with a logo in the middle: a yin and yang symbol was in the center, two acupuncture needles in an _x_ behind it like a skull and crossbones. The name of his clinic encircled the design in bold font— _Perfect Pricks._

_"_ Yep. I guess it does." She crossed her legs pensively. "I'm starting to think I should thank Hidan. If he hadn't told me about you when I mentioned stopping by, I might not've had enough inertia left from being mad at you to jump your bones."

"And here I was thinking it was simply my natural charms doing all the work." Kakashi said dryly, eye-smiling at her. "How sad."

Her only response was to stick her tongue out at him and then eat a big bite of cheesecake. He didn't need to know he was partly right.

.

.

.

Sad as it may be, he didn't seem too upset when less than an hour later they pulled over and started getting frisky. She really did need to thank Hidan, she thought as Kakashi's palm slid over the bare curve of her waist—though it would have to be in the most subtle, gracious way she could muster. The last thing she needed was Hidan knowing any more details of her sex life, especially when it related to something as outrageous as Giant Wieners. Or that she and Kakashi were about to get it on in his van while they were parked outside some sketchy warehouse.

She ran her teeth over his earlobe again, reveling in how little pressure it took to make his breathing increase. They'd barely been at it for three minutes this time, but she'd already reduced him to quiet, shallow breaths. His hands were loose, searching, touching the skin beneath her shirt like he couldn't currently manage otherwise.

"I think you like when I'm on top," she whispered, hoping her little morsel of smugness didn't filter too much into her tone. Kakashi sighed as her lips brushed his ear.

"I think," he replied very, very lowly, "that's already been established."

_Still trying to play it cool, are we?_ Sakura slipped a hand beneath the hem of his sweater, running her hand along the rises and dips of his abdomen, feeling the muscles jump ever so slightly beneath her touch. She kissed slowly along his jaw while her hand trailed up, up, all the way up to his chest.

"You know, I kinda got interrupted earlier. I had, like, at _least_ ten more hickeys to leave here before I was done."

He was going to say something, but it apparently fizzled out when she let her fingers move over a more sensitive part of his chest. Suddenly his face and neck both washed with color, the pale skin flushing in what seemed like an instant. She heard him clear his throat.

"We should, uh…" His voice faded when she did it again, this time with more pressure. Her teeth found her lip and grabbed on hard when his breath hitched.

"Oh my _God,"_ Sakura muttered with an incredulous half-grin. "You did _not_ tell me you liked that."

"Liked what?" he said, a bit rough around the edges, feigning his usual casual demeanor. The grin on her face instantly grew.

"I can't believe you have a thing for…for getting your nipples touched." Her voice was shaky with laughter. "No wonder you got so bothered about Kiba. I feel like I just opened a treasure chest. No pun intended."

Kakashi looked at her with lidded, rather unamused eyes, but his blush gave everything away. God, was she grateful for that blush—without it, she would probably never know a single thing he was thinking. She usually didn't, of course, if the last few days were any indication, and honestly she never would have pegged someone so laid back to be so shy and easily embarrassed when it came to affection. But that was the opposite of a problem in her book. At that moment, it might have been her favorite thing about him.

Besides his chest, of course.

"Don't be embarrassed," she told him lightly, holding back another giggle. "I think it's kinda sexy."

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. "You really can't—"

Sakura cut him off with a kiss, readjusting her position to get closer. Her hands were still on his chest, pressing gently into the muscles; she moved her knees where they sat on either side of his thighs to try and get her lap closer to his. When she moved, his hand absently followed her butt, which—

"AH!" she yelled on impulse, turning around to see her ass pressing against the center of the steering wheel. The horn honked for a few seconds until she found enough room to move away from it, though it was just barely enough. Kakashi simply blinked a few times, which made her snort into a fit of laughs. "Of course."

He started to move his hands away from her, pulling her shirt down to its rightful place over her hips.

"Okay, there is no way that just killed the whole mood." She tried to maneuver his wrists and guide his hands back to their rightful place on her ass, but he did his best to pull away. "Kakashi. Seriously?"

"You didn't kill the mood." His free hand pointed toward the passenger side of the car. _"That_ did."

Eyes following the direction of his finger, she noticed the door of the creepy warehouse they were parked next to opening, revealing a tall guy in a backwards hat and tank top and basketball shorts. The dude gave a very familiar wave, arm falling just a bit when he noticed they were…indisposed at the moment. Clearly he could see that Sakura was straddling the driver of the van, but for all their sakes she hoped he maybe hadn't noticed that Kakashi's sweater was pushed up to his neck.

"Who the hell is that?" Reluctantly, she climbed off, landing in her seat and observing their intruder. She was throbbing with need—not a whole lot, but enough to make her hate this wifebeater-wearing weenie for cockblocking her right off the bat.

Kakashi slowly adjusted his clothes. "One of the mechanics I work with."

The look she gave him was probably comically scandalized, but she didn't care. "Um, you're telling me we didn't just pull over here because you were consumed with lust or something?" She whipped her head around. The guy was coming toward the car at a very hesitant pace. "Could these people see us the entire time?"

"No. Promise." He ran a hand through his disheveled old man hair and secured his mask over his ears. "But to be fair, you came at me the second I put the car in park. I was powerless to stop you."

The foot of hers that was resting on his thigh came up to nudge his shoulder. "Powerless my _ass._ I've barely been able to keep your hands off my boobs all day."

"Says the one who's been after _my_ boobs all day. I'm really starting to feel like a piece of meat here, Sakura."

"Do I need to have a go at your nips again?" Her foot nudged into his shoulder, moving back down to his chest area. "I give a mean purple nurple. Just ask my neighbor."

Just as he was starting to look suspiciously into it, there was a knock on her window. Kakashi waved the guy off before Sakura could turn around, then cleared his throat, pocketing the car keys in his cupholder.

"Come on. This won't take long." He opened the door just barely and glanced at her over his shoulder, eye-smiling where she could see it. "Then we can discuss your offer."

She couldn't help but smile. Really, truly, he was unbelievable.

"Zabuza," Kakashi greeted as she slid out of the car. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good. Can't complain." The dude started walking back toward the warehouse and they followed him into the gigantic garage door, just one of many in this row. God, this place really was sketchy, like something out of a zombie apocalypse movie. If Kakashi hadn't known this place were here, Sakura never would have guessed—the rest of the buildings looked completely empty and the van was the only car in the lot.

"Are we about to get murdered?" she mumbled to Kakashi, who was much more relaxed beside her.

"Nah," the guy, Zabuza, called from a few feet in front of them. "I mean, not unless you want to. We got plenty of tools and fire 'n' shit."

"No thanks. I'd rather die where someone could find my body." Why did every guy she met lately look like someone Ino would pick up at a crappy metal concert?

"Think that's the opposite of what most murderers go for, but alright." The guy smirked. "Guess we'll have to hold off for today."

Kakashi chuckled to himself, putting a gentle hand on her back like it hadn't been on her butt two minutes ago.

"Temporary relocation," he explained in a murmur. "Their other shop closed, so they're here until they find a better spot."

"Ah," she said, though as always, she wanted to know more. Did they get robbed? Vandalized? Foreclosed on? Did they go out of business? Or maybe they'd been bought out by a developer, but that seemed highly unlikely given the place they were stuck in now. She couldn't help but be curious. Perhaps someone would drop a hint before they left.

The inside of the warehouse—thankfully for her increasing sense of uneasiness—looked like any normal mechanic's garage. There were cars lifted into various positions for work, some with the tires or bumpers taken off. There was only one other person here that she could see, hidden beneath a car with his legs sticking out, but they just strolled past him without so much as a word. They passed an old car with pinstripes on the side and arrived at the opposite wall of the warehouse. And what—or _who_ , more appropriately—was situated there was the absolute last person Sakura expected or wanted to see.

Shizune's ex-boyfriend, unmistakable fucker that he was, sat on a stool by a makeshift desk, wearing a grease-covered mechanic's outfit. His stupid bandana was keeping his hair back—hair that was longer than both hers and her cousin's, no less—and he had gauze pads taped to his cheek and a pen in his mouth while he looked at some sort of legal pad. Sakura's heart squeezed in surprise that quickly boiled into rage.

What in the _shit_ was going on here?

"Yo, Genma," Kakashi announced in monotone, leaning forward to catch his hand in a sort of automatic high-five-handshake thing that guys always did.

"Hey, man," the asshole returned rather jovially and lifted his face to look at Kakashi. Sakura could see the ugly mottled bruise on the side of his face where his shittily-patched bandages hadn't covered. "How's it hangin'? You here for that order?"

"Mhm." Kakashi paused, gesturing vaguely to his own visage. "What, uh…"

"Oh." Genma waved it off, doing that snarly smile thing he always did when he was trying to be funny. "Got too drunk and a little fight happened. No biggie." He glanced in Sakura's direction, more at her legs than her face. _Fucking scumbag._ "More importantly, who's this—"

His voice cut itself off once his eyes landed on her face—or, more specifically, her hair. Sakura couldn't move. If she did, she would probably launch at him and start clawing his face animal kingdom style.

"This is Sakura," Kakashi said plainly, either noting the tiny blip in normality and deciding to roll with it, or not detecting it in the first place. She couldn't tell which one was more likely. "She's—"

"Bathroom," she interrupted, jaw locked. Genma was staring at her with an unreadable expression. "I'm going…to pee really quick."

"I'll show you to it." He looked to Kakashi once he'd given Sakura enough seconds to deny him the opportunity. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna grab that battery while I'm back there."

"Okay."

She knew Kakashi was looking at her now, likely wondering what had so visibly set her off, but she couldn't look back at him without spilling something. _Ugh._ Today had been the smoothest sailing to date, and if she said anything to him— _especially_ before she could learn about the situation and read it more carefully—it would likely crumble the delicate, fun, beautiful little structure they'd been building and would hopefully continue to build.

The weight of his perpetually half-open eyes did not go unnoticed as she went with Genma to a hallway at the side of the garage. Her legs moved like the wooden ones pirates always had, stiff and weird and hard to walk on. She exhaled hugely the second they were out of sight, turning on him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she spat, her voice a hiss of a whisper over whatever bullshit oldies song was playing on the shop radio. He put his hands on his hips and leered at her, grimacing.

"My _job,"_ he replied. His voice was much calmer than his body language should allow, and she wished he would get mad. Part of her wanted a fight. "And I could ask you the same thing."

"I thought you were an investigator or whatever." Her back hit the wall and she crossed her arms. "Unless you lied about that too."

"I didn't _lie_ about it. Shit happened and now here I am." Genma frowned as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here? And how do you know Kakashi?"

"That's none of your business." Now he rolled his eyes, which were the same strange hazel-brown as ever, even in this poorly lit area.

"Yeah, it is. He's one of my best friends." he remarked in a drawl. Her stomach plummeted at this news. _What the fuck? How?!_ "You always do that, you know? You wanna get every detail of someone else's shit, but then you clam up when someone tries to eat from the same pot."

Sakura blinked. "What—what even is that expression? Did you just make that up?"

"No." A pause. His stance shifted a bit. "At least I don't think so. All I'm saying is that you always wanna dish it, but you can never take it."

Her insides sank again. "Don't patronize me. And don't act like you know me."

"Sweetheart, I've known you for over three years now." He placed his palm against the bandages on his cheek, patting for effect. "Half of one of which you've spent beating the hell out of me. I know enough."

Sakura was grumpy to say the least. She didn't _want_ him here. There was this awful feeling seeping all throughout her, like she was a sandcastle and Genma was the big surprise wave that threatened to turn her into an ugly lump of muddy beach. Whatever was happening here felt like it had the potential to ruin something big—and whether it was between her and Shizune or her and Kakashi or _him_ and Kakashi or just for herself, she didn't know. But she wouldn't leave here without delivering the message she'd been trying to send him for months now.

"Yeah, well. I know you too." Her chin jutted out, tilting up toward him in defiance. "You hate taking responsibility for your actions, blame everyone else for the shit you pull, and you're a commitment-phobic jackass who hurts good women because you can't keep it in your pants."

"Alright, alright, you win. Jesus." His hands slid into his pockets. "What are you so pissed about today?"

"Good question. Hm. I don't know. Maybe you _fucking my cousin_ in the _bathroom_ of some _shithole_ _bar."_

He sighed, frustrated. "Sakura. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that it's always a mutual decision when Shizune and I meet up like that." Another sigh. "And we didn't _—"_

"Mutual?" She huffed hard enough to hurt. "Yeah, you mean you take advantage of her loneliness and vulnerability, you gigantic asshole."

His jaw flexed at the corners. Sakura couldn't believe she used to think he was any kind of sweet or good-looking or upstanding or suitable for Shizune. She couldn't even stand to _look_ at him now. Kicking him in the face, though, she certainly didn't have a problem with. Her foot twitched almost giddily.

"You might think you know what you're talking about, but you don't." His voice had gotten low and disturbingly still. He was so much less concerned about all of this than he needed to be, in Sakura's humble opinion. "I can guarantee you that you don't."

"Yeah, okay." A bark of a laugh left her mouth. Her stomach felt like it was filled with wet cement—or wet sand, as the case was. "Is that why she calls me crying to come and get her every time she sees you?"

If the way his mouth twisted was anything to judge, that one clearly hurt. _Good._ "She called you this time because she drank too much and got sick. And yeah, maybe she regretted kissing me, but I think she was more upset that I turned her down."

"Oh, _that's_ rich." Her eyes were going to roll out of her head at this rate, which would probably be preferable to talking with him right now. "Somehow I really doubt that's what happened. I _swear_ —if you weren't so full of it, you'd probably have a much easier time going and fucking yourself."

"Agh, _geez._ Look," he said curtly, "say what you want, but you're forgetting one important thing about all this."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Her body leaned forward, balancing on her toes. Anger was rolling through her in waves of palpable heat.

"Okay, actually, there're two things." Genma looked down at her. "You're not the only one who cares about her, first of all. But more importantly—and despite whatever your whole mama bear instinct tells you—none of what she does is your decision to make. It's hers."

Adrenaline seeped through her veins, trickled into her saliva. She felt nauseous and so, _so_ ready to kick his ass. A very small part of her knew he was right, but she wouldn't let it show. He was saying what he was for all the wrong reasons. It didn't matter to her that he'd ever been good to Shizune—all she knew him as now was a cheater, and a liar, and someone who knew exactly how to hurt one of the most important people in her life. And apparently a mechanic, too, which was a very strange new development. But anyway.

"I hate you." Her teeth gnawed at the inside of her lip. She lowered her voice to match his. "I really do. And if you don't leave her alone, I'll kick you so fucking hard that your stomach drops out of your ass."

Genma smirked humorlessly, putting the end of his stupid pen back in his mouth. "I'd love to see—"

"All good over here?"

Both of them turned to see Kakashi standing at the end of the hall, standing there with an eye smile. Something was off about it. Unsettling, even, but in a way that made her question whether she was just being paranoid. _Shit._

Only then did she realize what the situation looked like: she was backed into the wall, Genma leaning closely over her while she got in his face. It probably looked like he'd cornered her or something.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, stepping away. This needed to be diffused before—before Kakashi got the wrong idea, or either of them had to explain, or this turned into the gigantic mess it had the potential to be. "He was just…asking me about his bruise."

"Ah." The weird smile fell, thank God. "What's the verdict?"

Sakura swallowed, praying she wasn't being as obvious as she felt. "He's fine for now, but he got lucky. Could have been much worse." At least that was true. With a saccharine sweet expression, she turned back to Genma. "You should probably be more careful, especially when you're drinking."

All Genma did was stare back, eyes set dead on her face. "Yeah, you're right. But I guess some people just need to learn more self-control." He sent a good-natured shrug Kakashi's way, missing the way Sakura's fists clenched at her sides. "What can you do, y'know?"

There was an exceptionally awkward moment where no one said anything. Kakashi definitely knew something was off, at least by Sakura's notoriously shitty calculations. Either that or it was her own anger radiating from her core that was making her self-aware to the point of a few seconds feeling like minutes. Whatever it was, she scrambled to break the tension. Hopefully it would dissolve and take Genma right along with it.

"I hate to rush you, but can we go soon?" She strolled over to where Kakashi stood at the hallway entrance. "Doctor Haruno needs some caffeine, stat."

"Sure." Maybe she was still being paranoid, but it seemed like he was eyeing her inquisitively. Immediately she decided to pull her trump card.

"I was also thinking, that, um…we should discuss that offer from earlier."

His eyes stayed the same dark, roaming way they were, though she could tell his mouth was forming the beginnings of a crooked grin beneath that mask. And that alone made her feel greatly relieved—not all the way, but at least halfway back to how she'd been before they walked into this warehouse.

"Oh, of course." His gaze lingered for a wonderful second before flickering over to Genma once again. "Well, looks like I suddenly have to go. My apologies. If you could maybe…"

"Yeah. No worries. Zabuza'll bring it out to you." He ran a hand over his bandana, moving smoothly toward the other end of the hall—presumably where he'd originally been headed. "I, uh, got a customer waiting for me to call 'em, so I'll catch you two later."

Kakashi nodded, and Genma turned around to leave after sending her a small but significant look, and then breath left Sakura's nose fast enough to whistle. She was finally in the clear—for now, at least, which would give her time to sort this shit out before Kakashi could catch wind of it, or before she could let her own mind run away with it.

She wasn't lying to him, per se, but she felt bad for not telling the truth. God, though—she had such a gut-twisting, awful feeling about whatever was lurking beneath the surface of her and Genma's unfinished business, especially if he and Kakashi were best friends like he'd told her. Hopefully it would all just have to wait for another day. Preferably one where the smell of burnt metal and motor oil wasn't giving her a tension headache.

"Everything okay?" Kakashi asked, matching her stride with a casual slouch. For once, his hand wasn't in his pocket, so she laced a few of his fingers with her own and offered him a small smile. A sort of peace offering, at least for herself.

"Yeah," she told him, moving closer to his side. _Why wouldn't it be?,_ she could have asked, but she settled for something more definitive. "Everything's good."

And it would be, she thought, as long as Genma stayed out of it.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: he's here
> 
> some things:
> 
> 1\. i added a pseud!! that's bc i wanted to have username consistency across the board. it's still me tho
> 
> 2\. sorry for taking so long to update. life has been...a lot lately and i hate it and i just want to get this story finished. the next update might take a little while because of other projects, but it WILL get done. my own sense of perfectionism won't let me not keep writing this fic lol
> 
> 3\. the song kakashi was humming in the car was a phil collins song. no takebacks
> 
> 4\. the nipple thing was written 1. for my own awfulness, 2. because of my nipple group chat peeps, and 3. as an ode to one of my all-time favorite kakasaku fics. if you know which one i'm referencing you will get serious brownie points
> 
> 5\. bluefurcape and i are running kakasaku week this year! go to her tumblr or mine under the tag 'kakasaku week 2016' for more info.
> 
> 6\. as always these days, thank u bluefurcape for ur help this chap, and also a general thank u to my boo ninjas-in-love on tumblr i love u
> 
> OKAY this is getting very long, but hello everyone, leave me ur thoughts or feelings or notes on purple nurples
> 
> see u soon xoxo


	6. ping pong

Sakura wondered, and not for the first time, whether there was something fundamentally wrong with her family.

It wasn’t that she had hated or resented her upbringing—in fact, it was rather the opposite. Growing up in the Senju household had primed her for a life of kicking ass and taking names. Sometimes literally. And she learned the good things like loyalty, trust, and solidarity in rough times. Determination. Dignity. Love, usually tough. Not to mention how to clear a few shots of vodka without breaking a sweat, even if she regretted them very soon afterward.

But there were times when she was forced to question the extent to which this affected her. Namely when Tsunade called her for a ‘chat’: a conversation that was always guaranteed to be loaded like a bazooka, firing away at the strangest moments and in the weirdest ways.

“I’m sorry— _what?!…_ Oh, _shit!_ Agh! _FUCK!”_

_“Watch your damn language,”_ Tsunade muttered on the other end, easily heard despite the phone not being at Sakura’s ear. _“Jesus.”_

“Uh, sorry, but I just dropped a _gigantic_ milkshake all over my shoes. You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.” Sakura groaned from the back of her throat and slipped her shoes off in the middle of the sidewalk. She was so used to getting stared at by now—whether for her hair or the dogs, or even just her enormous mouth—that it didn’t even register.

_“Why the hell were you drinking a milkshake? It’s five in the afternoon there.”_

Sakura was extremely grateful that Tsunade wasn’t here to see her eyes roll. “How is that relevant to anything?”

_“It’s almost dinnertime.”_ There was a brief pause on the other side of the phone. She could hear her shuffling through paperwork. _“What kind is it, though? I might get my assistant to order me one. Not that my ass needs all the sugar.”_

It had been a delicious strawberry milkshake, one with neon pink syrup and wafer cookies laid prettily over the whipped cream, but she wasn’t going to say that. She was too pissed that she’d lost a good eighty percent of the thing. Especially considering how much cash she’d blown on it.

Sakura stopped making good use of the water bottle in her purse, letting her now-dripping-but-thankfully-clean sneakers rest on a bench by a disgruntled salary man. He eyed her narrowly over the top edge of his newspaper; he cowered the second she fired him a look right back. Now was not the time—not when her ankles were sticky and the shock of this all was about to make her jump out of her skin.

“Well, then,” she grumbled, trying to check her tone, “I’d go ahead and dump your new sugar daddy before you get diabetes.”

_“Oh, boy—here we go. I thought you’d be happy to hear this. What’s the issue, huh?”_

Tsunade’s tone had started out neutral, but clearly she was getting irritated that Sakura was challenging her. They were too similar—except in this regard, apparently. Sakura scoffed.

“Probably the fact that you’re using your best friend to pay off your massive loan debt? I dunno. You tell me, ba-chan.”

More papers shuffled on the other end. God, she could just picture how distressingly messy the woman’s desk was—even though she was currently working in Bangkok, and in someone else’s office, no less, there was no way she hadn’t settled into her usual state of disorganized chaos. She’d been doing these medical conferences abroad for months now.

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Sakura. I’m also using him for sex.”_

The subtle roguish note in her voice normally would have made Sakura laugh. Well, okay, even now she was doing her best to tamp down a smile. But she persevered.

“No!” she whined half-petulantly. “Despite his flaws—his _many_ flaws—you know he’s been completely and totally in love with you since, like, the dawn of time. That’s not fair.”

_“You’ve always been a judgy one, haven’t you?”_ Her aunt was laughing now, which was always a bit frightening. _“Are you telling me right now that you feel sorry_ _for Jiraiya?”_

The sunlit pavement was uncomfortably warm under her feet, all too easily heating them through her thin, mismatched socks. The correct answer, she wanted to say, was that she felt kind of sorry for _anyone_ who married Tsunade. But she didn’t want her feelings on the matter to be taken any more lightly than they already were, so she put it away for another time. Preferably one where good hot sake was involved.

“No.” She huffed out a breath. “Not—not really, so don’t tell him I said that. You just…you have to understand that this comes as a bit of a shock.”

_“Sure. Hn. Let me just say, though, that this was all his idea. He can’t pay anything off unless we’re legally bound.”_

“If you say so.”

_“Your faith in me is astounding.”_ Another haughty laugh followed this. _“And by the way, I’m really surprised by how surprised_ you _are at all of this.”_

“Um, why wouldn’t I be?” She didn’t hesitate to answer as she tossed the emptied cup in the trashcan, then slipped on her wet shoes. Eww. “This literally goes against, like, everything you raised us to do.”

_"Not what I meant,”_ Tsunade sighed with a sharper edge now. “ _Didn’t Shizune tell you?”_

Sakura cleared her throat, watching cars pass on the street before her as she debated how to answer that. Tsunade would call bullshit no matter what she said—which was why she could never lie to the woman. She hadn’t spoken to Shizune since she’d left her house after the whole Genma-kicking debacle almost two weeks ago, which was a bit…odd for the two of them. They didn’t keep in touch every day, but they kept in touch often enough for even a few days to feel like a lot.

Right now, she thought, there were some good reasons for not keeping in touch with her friends as often as she usually did. First of all, she was getting laid on a daily basis, which she figured was an excellent excuse should the issue ever arise. Secondly, she had a lot going on: thanks to Sasuke’s ever-so-gracious decision to finally schedule her, she’d started working nights again, and it was a little hard to readjust to that after two weeks of free time. Thirdly, she was starting a new semester in a week and was forcing herself to prepare by studying as much as she could, which kind of sucked—but it also made her feel accomplished and on top of her game, which she liked.

But most importantly, she was getting laid. A lot. By a guy with a glorified fast food stand, eight dogs he treated like children, an out-of-left-field astrophysics degree from MIT, and a smoking-hot everything.

And apparently, despite the lovely surprise barbecue she’d crashed, a _very_ questionable taste in friends.

She hadn’t mentioned the Genma thing from last weekend to Shizune, mostly because she didn’t want to remind her of his existence. But she’d also been avoiding the same subject with Kakashi because she wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. _Hey, your friend fucking sucks_ didn’t seem like the best thing to say to someone she still…well, someone she still hardly knew, especially about a situation that was extremely murky to her. She _wanted_ to ask him about it, of course—she was nothing if not insatiably curious—but it felt like a question she’d only ask if they were officially dating. And right now, she didn’t really know enough about him to call this anything more than a fling, even if she liked him a lot more than a fling demanded, and even if she wasn’t sure whether he felt the same way.

Sakura’s stomach turned, as did the sides of her mouth. That was beside the point. Or at least it was right now.

“No, she didn’t tell me. I guess she’s been busy.” She sniffed distractedly. “That, or she just wanted me to ruin a perfectly good sidewalk with a milkshake.”

_“Uh huh,”_ was what Tsunade came back with, and her stomach flopped again. _“I know you two. What happened?”_

“Nothing happened. At least not that I know of.” _Oops._ That was always the wrong thing to say. Tsunade had no qualms about wringing any kind of gossip out of Shizune—between the two of them, and despite being the older one, she’d always been weaker willed than Sakura. Hence their current predicament.

“Anyway,” she continued, scrambling for a subject change, “when’s the _big date?_ Or are you just going to fly in for the night and run through the courthouse?”

A bitter yet humored chuckle filtered through the receiver.

_“If only. Fuck. Get this—his one stipulation was that we have some giant blowout wedding.”_ Tsunade paused, and Sakura could _see_ her rubbing her temple. _“I have to wear a goddamned white dress.”_

“Oh my _God.”_ She snorted. It quickly turned into a laugh. “Suddenly I’m feeling less like this was a crappy idea.”

_“Oh, Sakura. Just wait until you see your bridesmaid’s dress.”_

It wasn’t long before the reminder of international roaming charges wrapped up their conversation, leaving Sakura walking down the street with a funny grin on her face, ankles sticky with ice cream, wet shoes, and a hankering for something sweet. She turned her phone between her hands for a moment, debating. Right now, she was closer to Kakashi’s place than her own, but she wasn’t sure whether he was home. Not only that, but he could be working, and she’d already dragged him away from the truck more than once this week.

Before she could reconsider, she opened up a text, making sure to sprinkle in an emoji or two simply because.

_Think I’m gonna stop by your place for a shower, but I might need help turning on the faucet._ A thinking face, and then a smiling one. _Know anyone who could help me with that?_

She only had enough time to mentally spite Hidan for saying she was bad at this. Then she got the reply.

_think i have a manual hiding somewhere. ill find it by the time u get here_

Sakura couldn’t help but let the stupid giddy smile spread over her face while her feet moved just a little bit faster. He’d put a flexing bicep emoji in the text.

_Thank goodness,_ she told him. _I was hoping we wouldn’t have to use the hose again._

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

“Mm.” Her back sank against the quilt on his bed, feeling whatever droplets still clung to her skin sink into the fabric. And then she started to laugh through her nose.

“Hmm?” Kakashi inquired as best as he could with their tongues in each other’s mouths. She pulled away for a second and he relocated to her neck, kissing the skin with his mouth half-open and drawing a happy little sigh out of her.

“I’m just thinking of a bad joke I could make.” Her fingers combed through his damp hair, nails dragging lazily down the nape of his neck. “One about getting dirty and clean at the same time.”

“Hmm.” Without warning, he nipped hard at one spot. She was fairly sure there was another mark there from a few days ago.

“What’s with all the bites and hickeys lately? I thought that was my job.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Okay, maybe it was just her, but he’d hardly spoken since she got here. Not that she didn’t enjoy feeling every hum in his chest where it rested above and against her own, but…still.

“You know,” she tried, smoothing out her voice, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you at work last night.”

“Mm?”

Her eyes met the ceiling above them, plain and white and as boring as his answer. Not even an _oh, really?_ or any true signs that she’d piqued his interest. _Time to dial it up a notch, then._

“Yeah. I just kept imagining you coming in there, pretending to order something, and then…” She paused—partly for effect, and partly to think of something good. “Then pulling me into the stockroom and…and taking me over a stack of boxes.”

Nothing. Not a word except for some noncommittal hum. Kakashi simply continued to run his nose along her skin, press his lips into the curve of her shoulder. It was extremely nice, yes, but it wasn’t enough to distract her. She had to think of something really erotic or bizarre, something that would get his attention enough to make him to use more than monosyllabic kind-of words. Something that would reverse what apparently seemed to be a regression back to caveman speak. She almost wished she could pull out her phone and call Hidan to pick his brain.

_Holy shit, Sakura. Come on. We can do better than that._

_Okay, no,_ her inner self argued back. If this was bad enough for her to think _what would Hidan do?,_ then it was probably bad enough. Maybe it was also something she’d generated with her wonderfully overactive imagination, but it seemed as though Kakashi had been doing this all week—this whole half-conversation thing with sex taking up almost all of their time together. She couldn’t necessarily complain about it, not when the sex was remarkably hot and intense now that Kakashi had started taking the wheel, but she could definitely pinpoint a marked difference in their dynamic.

The prouder side of Sakura thought that perhaps she’d thoroughly exhausted him by getting nasty more often than not, but the worrier in her—the one which had been basking in the spotlight ever since she’d jumped him almost three weeks ago—wondered if there was more to it.

“It was so hot,” she continued. If anything, he should be able to note how little enthusiasm she was giving this fantasy. “You were, like, pulling my hair and stuff, ripping all my clothes off and…and blindfolding me with my apron, and knocking over all the souvenir cups…” Kakashi paused for a slight moment, probably out of confusion, or maybe he was wondering why she sounded so confused. But he didn’t stop.

His hands were sliding up her shower-slick legs, inching closer to the apex of her thighs, and she wanted him there. They were both naked, save for the towels, and it would be so _easy_ to let him continue, to brush her fingers over the broad, lean plane of his chest while his worked her where she was already ready, sensitive as she was from coming only minutes before.

“Don’t you wanna know the best part?” she squeaked, trying to ward off the arousal long enough to get what she was looking for.

“Uh-huh.”

_God._ It was like talking to a fucking brick wall. Or fucking a talking brick wall—one that barely did the talking part, anyway. Was he even _listening?_

“Well, it was…” She wracked her brain for a second. “You sprayed whipped cream all over me, and then you said you wanted to do it doggy style in front of the whole café, and then—but then my boss walked in, and I thought you were gonna punch him, but you started making out with him, and—okay, okay, I tried. I can’t do this. Jesus. Just—get up.” Her palms pushed at his naked shoulders as they instantly complied. “Off.”

Immediately he leaned away to look down at her, a slight raise to one brow. His eyes were more open than she’d ever seen them; the way his mouth curved down to one side almost made her tell him to forget it and keep doing what he was doing. But then he bent back at the waist to give her space.

“That was…very detailed.”

She noted the perplexed caution in his voice and was almost glad to hear it. “Yeah, I was, uh, speaking from the heart, I guess.” Her hands ran over her naked arms. “Just—ignore all of that and grab me a shirt.”

More staring.

“I want to try something.”

His silver eyebrow raised further upward. “Does it involve making out with your boss?”

“Clothes, pretty please,” Sakura said, batting her lashes for effect and everything. And trying to sweep every possible image of Sasuke from her thoughts in the process.

Kakashi stared down at her for a beat or two more, eyes all dark and half-lidded and heart-palpitatingly intense as ever, and stood up, taking all the warmth with him to his dresser. In the thick, awkward environment she’d created, her mind was running a mile a minute.

There were several reasons for him being so quiet this week. The first of which was his generally subdued disposition, she figured. But then the usual insecurities of a new relationship, whatever kind of relationship it was, crept in, and it made her question a lot of things: had they already run out of things to talk about? Did he think she was annoying? Was he only in it for the sex?

Naturally, she’d discussed this with Ino more than once this week, and Ino had set her straight. _Didn’t his friends say he wasn’t the type to do this?_ she reminded Sakura. _And he keeps inviting you to be around him, keeps letting you in—after you told him you like him, no less. If he’s as private and isolated as they made him out to be, then this must be a pretty big deal for him._

It was for Sakura as well. Of course it was, and that was why it was eating at her. However, what ate at her the most was the possibility that remained after all the others had been dissected and debunked and thrown out: that the interaction with Genma had somehow thrown a wrench—no pun intended—into their budding, tentative relationship.

It would explain why, in retrospect, everything had been kind of weird since the previous weekend, just when Sakura finally felt like it was all going her way. They’d had sex and _only_ sex since then—which wasn’t a bad thing at all, but it wasn’t exactly the best thing, either. She was starting to miss the pseudo-date of last Saturday, running errands and eating at adorable restaurants and humming along to eighties music as they rode through town. Mostly because she’d been looking forward to more of them.

“What color? You’ve got quite a few options here: black, black, light black…ah, here’s a dark blue one.”

“The blue one.” Her eyes were kind of glued to where the dimples in his lower back peeked out above his towel. “And put on some pants, too.”

“Hmm.” He opened another drawer. “Not sure I’m liking where this is going.”

She almost laughed. _You won’t._

“If you’re good, I’ll…ooh, I’ll let you touch my boobs.”

“Over or under the shirt?”

Now she did laugh. “Over, but only because I’m not wearing a bra. Gotta keep my virtue intact.”

Once they were both in his clothes, Kakashi tossed the damp towels on the floor and pulled back the covers so they could settle in. She sat up, legs stretched out, while he laid down completely. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall asleep—though judging by the tension in the air and the nervous, expectant look on his face, he was ready for whatever she was planning. Or at least as ready as he could be.

“So.” She tugged the shirt down over her thighs, sheets crinkling beneath her legs. “Have you ever played Twenty Questions?”

“Uh…” His eyes drooped in thought. “Once, I think. In middle school.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna play that.”

His eyebrow raised at her, this time with more emphasis. “Right now?”

“Mhm. Yep. Except we answer every question instead of guessing something. I’m going to ask you a question and you answer it, and then you’ll ask me one and I’ll answer it.” It was the quickest solution she could come up with—one where they could get to know each other more, could address whatever was lurking beneath the surface and shifting everything without her permission. Hidan and Ino would likely be proud.

Kakashi, on the other hand, seemed increasingly less enthused.

“I must be worse in bed than I thought.”

Sakura felt her face scrunch in disbelief before a cackle puttered out of her. “Um, _no._ Definitely not the case. I’m just—I want to do something else for a little bit.”

“Fair enough.” There was a pause then. Some of the uneasiness between them, Sakura noticed, had dissipated. “Are there any rules?”

She had a feeling despite his return to his usual blank, sleepy expression, that he was teasing her, making a joke at her expense. But it didn’t matter. This was his way of agreeing to it.

“Yes,” she replied, thinking as she spoke. “Let’s rule out yes-or-no questions. Well, at least for the first ten. Also, we each get one pass.”

“Just one?”

Her eyes narrowed. _“Yes._ Or else you’ll skip every question.”

“How little you must think of me,” Kakashi deadpanned. The way his damp hair fell over his forehead was so attractive. She poked at it.

“You have no idea,” she sang back, sticking her tongue out. “Anyway, I’ll go first.”

“By all means.”

Her eyes roamed over his face, the casual drowsiness of his dark eyes as he looked at her, the very faint flush in his neck and chest from their warm shower. The white pillow made his hair look dark, halfway to the black she’d seen in his younger pictures. She couldn’t decide where to start first.

“Which dog have you had the longest?”

A little smiled toyed at the corner of his mouth. “Pakkun. His great-grandmother was our family dog—Momo.”

“Um. That _might_ be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” She touched a hand to her cheek, because it probably was. “What about his mama? And the other puppies in the litter?”

“Momo had a boy and a girl: Maru and Coffee. Coffee had Niko, and Niko had a few pups, but Pakkun was the one I got.”

“So your parents kept all the other ones? Or have you always been a dog hoarder?” She settled into the bed better, leaning her back against the headboard. Kakashi smiled a bit more widely now—a quiet, soft expression.

“Those are two questions,” he chastised. “Isn’t it my turn?”

_Damnit._ Her mouth pinched to the side, not wanting to relent, but she _had_ made the rules. “Yeah, you’re right. Go ahead.”

The pillowcase rustled when he tilted his head a little more in her direction. “Hmm…is your boss hot?”

“Kakashi!” She smacked his naked chest. “I told you th—I was kidding!”

“You didn’t say you were kidding; just to ignore it.” He soothed at the handprint shape all pale on the pinkish area of his skin. “But I must say, your defensiveness only makes my curiosity that much stronger.”

That prompt of an arched eyebrow was going to kill her—if not today, then certainly one day. Sakura huffed.

“Yes, he’s hot, but I hate him, and he’s a complete and total jackass. Kind of like somebody else I know.”

Her infamous glare only garnered an even more infamous eye smile from him.

“Was that really your question? ‘Cause I’m willing to give you a freebie for that one.”

Kakashi shrugged. “I’m satisfied. Your turn.”

“You suck.”

“That’s not a question, Sakura.”

“No, it’s a fact.” When he just creased his eyes again, she decided to move on. “Fine. How did you meet Tsume?”

His gaze unexpectedly turned toward the ceiling. _Oh, boy. This should be good._

“I, uh…” He scratched gently along his stomach, though not absently. “I used to date her daughter.”

Sakura felt the shock stretch across her features, especially once she vaguely recalled thinking, despite not remembering exactly what she looked like, that the girl in all those Inuzuka family pictures was pretty. On some level it probably should have been the answer to expect, but when had she ever been able to predict anything about Kakashi?

“When was that?” Sakura asked around an oddly laughing breath. He was avoiding meeting her eyes, which she had learned meant that he was embarrassed—or at least was getting there.

“Around…eight years ago? She was my vet, and, uh”—His palms came up in some kind of finalizing gesture, as if to say _that’s all, folks!,_ and then landed back on his stomach.

“And?” she pressed, leaning closer.

“And…it…was fine, I guess. Fun while it lasted. She got married a while back; lives in Kyoto now.”

How did he do that? How did he limit his answers to the bare minimum while she was practically _vibrating_ with interest?

“How long _did_ it last? I mean, did you—did you love her?”

It wasn’t out of jealousy or competition that she asked what she did. Honestly, it wasn’t. She just wanted to get a peek behind that bored facade, see what made his wheels turn a little bit. She wanted to know more. Something. _Anything._ And he—he _had_ to know that she was dying to hear every detail. She brought her knees up to her chest, pulling the quilt up with them.

One of his hands moved to pat the shapeless lump of her foot over the covers; he finally looked at her again, setting that half-lidded stare on her wide-eyed one. In the evening sun that teased through the window, that black of his eyes looked softer, deeper somehow. Beautiful in his own way.

“My turn,” he said, and that was it.

Her voice was smaller when she replied. “Okay.”

“Hmm.” His contemplation was brief, passing. “What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

Frustrated as she was by his unflappable simplicity, she was also grateful for it. Even if he was deviating from her intended course, even if he was attempting to distract her out of picking out the details, there was a freshness to the small-talk kind of question that made her heart a little fuller just because.

“Oh, that’s easy,” she told him, playing along for the moment. “Pancakes. The fluffy kind. With tons of syrup and vanilla ice cream.” Carefully, she reached over to brush his hair away from his forehead with a single finger. She’d have to think of a better responding question than _What about you?_

“Sounds doable. I can make you some tonight, if you like.”

“Ooh, _please_. My sweet tooth is on a kick today.”

On a whim, she let her fingers move slowly through his hair, starting off his forehead to rake backward. It was damp and cool beneath her touch. The next question rolled off her tongue effortlessly.

“Was that your last relationship?” Her hand went through his hair again. She made sure to put a light pressure on her nails as they passed. _Have you been alone since then? Has anyone touched you like this? Have you—_

“I thought you said no yes-or-no questions,” Kakashi mused. “You’re breaking all your own rules here.”

He was right, of course, so she probably couldn’t argue her way out of it. She was frustrated, though. And she might have dragged her nails a little more firmly than intended. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he closed his eyes, relaxing into it. Kind of like a dog.

“I hate you,” she griped with a wrinkle in her nose. Kakashi grinned lazily.

“Do you?”

“No yes-or-no questions.”

“Touché.” He made a short, thoughtful humming noise. “Whose turn is it?”

“Still mine.” Sakura brushed her thumb over the smooth of his forehead, the faint lines near his eyebrows. “How old were you when your hair turned gray?”

“Mm. After I graduated from college.” Another hum. It was low and tangible in his chest. “Didn’t get this light until a year or two later, I don’t think.”

She was dying to find out whether it was a genetic thing or if something had triggered it, but she’d have to be patient. And she needed to time something like that with a lot of caution.

“I think it’s sexy,” she confessed instead, smirking at him. Even more so when he exhaled a short laugh through his nose.

“That makes one of us.” He leaned into the swirls she traced on his scalp. “Lemme think…hm. Which one of my dogs is your favorite?”

“All of them.” Her answer was clear and ready. That was a trap she’d been waiting for him to set—people with more than one pet always loved trying that one. Shino, her first boyfriend, almost broke up with her when she picked his butterfly over the rest of his insect collection. Which was probably the first reason why she stopped going for guys her own age.

“Good answer,” Kakashi murmured like he’d known that was coming.

“I know.” She slid further down in the bed to rest on her elbow, shifting closer to the warmth of him while her other hand kept working its magic in his hair. “What are your parents like?”

“Pass.” Before she could begin to protest or seek an explanation, he said: “Long story.”

Sakura had to do her absolute best not to groan. At the very least, he could have given her a single adjective—if even to encompass the both of them at once. There wasn’t anything. Not even a positive or a negative to go on. She ached to turn around and glance at that picture on his bedside table, the old one with the man and woman so clearly his father and mother, holding him and smiling all glowy and a little tired like new parents always looked.

“Seriously, Kakashi? _Nothing?”_ A tug at his hair wouldn’t hurt anything, would it? Again, he didn’t seem to mind when she did. The man was so blissfully checked-out of everything—he was a duck letting water just roll off its back. A puppy napping in the sunlight. If only she could channel an ounce of that. If only she could simply roll with things instead of hanging on to every word.

“You said we each had a pass, and I used it.” His lips were barely moving against the inside of her wrist; his eyes were still closed. “Have patience, grasshopper.”

“Yeah, yeah.” A puff of air rushed from her nose, indignant. “Your turn.”

“Hn.” Kakashi smooched a tiny kiss to her skin. “What’s your blood type?”

“Really? _That’s_ what you want to know?”

“It’s important information,” he drawled, face unchanging. The snort that came from her was unbidden and admittedly very unattractive.

“Sure it is. I’m type O.”

“Mm. Me too, actually.”

“That…seriously? That’s kind of weird. I didn’t think we had that much in common.” In demeanor, or energy levels, or their approaches to question games. Sakura was still reeling from his avoidance of the parents question. Was that some kind of a red flag?

“Now you know.”

She shut herself up there, promising to hound Ino about it later. “I’ll let you ask me another question since that one was lame.”

“Okay.” Another tiny smooch, and then he hummed against the skin, making it warm and tingly. “Hmm…okay. Why did you make up some bizarre fantasy earlier?”

_Finally_ a real question. She could almost hear the hallelujah choruses as she scooted closer to him, letting her arm rest against his chest while her hand moved to touch his face. The pads of her fingers swept over the smooth of his cheekbone.

“To see if you were paying attention,” she nearly whispered, booping his nose ever so gently. “You’ve been awfully quiet this week. I was getting worried, you know.”

She recalled their conversation from the previous week—how he’d told her not to start worrying already, that there’d be plenty of time for that later. And she was thinking she’d garner a similar reaction now, though in much fewer words now that he seemed to be teetering on the edge of consciousness. But there was none of that reassurance, none of that dismissal. Not even an attempt.

_Uh oh._

“Why haven’t we gone on any dates since last weekend?” Sakura questioned, taking her turn before he could extend his own. Not that he would have. For the first time since he’d closed his eyes, though, his expression changed—one eye cracked open, drowsy, doubtful.

“I don’t think I realized Saturday was a date.” His voice was a murmur, a hot breath on her palm. “Did you want it to be one?”

“Yes,” she replied with complete honestly and a touch of insecurity, twisting her mouth to one side.

“Okay then,” Kakashi told her. His eye closed again. “It was a date.”

“Okay.” She allowed herself to believe that the faint smile on his lips was true—that he hadn’t said it just to appease her or get her to shut up. “Did _you_ want it to be one, though?”

“Mm.” He kind of nuzzled into her hand. “Preferably with less spanking, but if you think it counts, then I’d say it definitely counts.”

Sakura giggled. She couldn’t help it. The hesitant relief, the glowing goodness, the sudden giddiness—all of it was there, bubbling in her chest like sweet sparkling wine. She settled as close to him as she could and kissed him, feeling the languid press of his sleepy mouth against her own while she soaked in his body heat through her shirt. His arm came up to curl lethargically around her back.

“So we’re dating, then,” she breathed against his chin.

“Think we’re on the tenth real question now,” he mumbled back. “So if that’s a yes for you…yes for me, too.”

She grinned and smothered him with another kiss, all warm and plush and blissfully heady. “Your turn.”

“Mm.” He kissed her this time and missed her mouth by about a centimeter. “When do I get to make good on that boob-touching promise?”

There was a distinct slur to his words that told her he was barely managing to stay lucid. But she couldn’t keep the smile off her face, couldn’t stop brushing the soft silver hair off of his. God, she _liked_ him. She really, really did. And nothing felt better to her right then than knowing that despite all the things he hadn’t said, he liked her too.

“When you wake up,” she said, tracing the full shape of his eyebrow with her thumb, making the moment linger for a little while longer.

.

 

.

 

.

 

Sakura didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke to the distant sound of dog tags jingling and the smell of breakfast.

Kakashi’s side of the bed was empty, the warmth fading, and the room was lit only by the light streaming in from the hallway. A strange sense of disorientation trickled in from the back of her head; her eyebrows crunched to compensate for it. She almost _never_ took naps—not unless she was sick or had pulled two all-nighters in a row.

“What time is it?” she rasped into the calm, sitting up groggily. Her hair, she could feel, was entirely in disarray. Unlike any normal person, Kakashi didn’t have an alarm clock beside his bed, so she padded into the bathroom to find her phone.

The time on her screen read nine o’clock. At _night._ Her sleep schedule was going to be so fucked—she had work all day tomorrow. Until after midnight. With Kankuro. And Sasuke. _Wonderful._

With a sigh, she sat down to pee, sliding the phone off the counter as she did so. It was out of habit that she scrolled through the app showing her work schedule at the coffee shop, double-checking what she already knew, then opened Facebook to mindlessly update herself on the world. Ino had updated her profile picture for the second time that week—gorgeous as always, though a tad over-filtered—and there were a few articles down the timeline that she had little interest in. Some people from her classes last semester had made posts about last hoorahs for vacation since classes resumed in a few days. Shizune had shared a recipe video for easy apple fritters.

_Oh, Shizune._ Shizune, Shizune, Shizune. Her poor cousin. Her beautiful, kind, amazing cousin who deserved none of the shit she was handed. She looked at the mild smile on Shizune’s profile picture, the bobbed black hair and wide black eyes. The woman should be married with three kids right now, like she’d always wanted, not working a crappy secretary job and constantly getting fucked over by some sleazy scumbag.

Genma. Right. They’d fallen asleep before she could broach the subject with Kakashi.

Sakura thought about their warm, good moment earlier in the evening, the lightness that had faded with the sun, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to return to that until she brought this out into the open. Until it dissolved whatever unspoken tension still lay between her and Kakashi—between today and last Saturday.

So when she finally arrived in the kitchen, quilt like a cape around her shoulders, she went straight to where Kakashi stood calmly at the stove, sidestepped Uhei and Pakkun, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“My turn,” she said into the space between his shoulder blades. The sweater he’d put on muffled the words.

“‘Morning to you, too.” His voice rumbled in his chest and back, making her lips tingly. “I don’t have any ice cream, but I do have about half a pancake’s worth of syrup.”

Leaning onto her tiptoes, she kissed the back of his neck, then hopped up onto the counter. “That’s okay with me.” The top pancake on the stack was hot when she picked it up, tearing off a piece and popping it into her mouth. Fluffy, buttery deliciousness. “You don’t really like sweet things, do you?”

“Not usually, no.” He was wearing one of his masks; his eyes were on the disc of batter in the pan. She could hear it glide perfectly against the nonstick skillet. “But everyone likes pancakes.”

She tore another chunk off and reached forward to peel his mask down. The way his lips brushed her fingers as he took the bite from her shot a thrill down her spine. _Not now, Sakura._

“I don’t think that counted as a question,” she said as playfully as she could manage, “so I’ll ask another one.”

The eyebrow he tilted at her asked, _we’re not done with this yet?_ or maybe, _do you realize how bad at this game you are?_ But he didn’t interrupt her, didn’t refuse anything, and that was fine enough.

Feigning a casual air, she took another small bite of pancake. “How do you know Genma?” It was spongy and delightfully smooth between her fingertips. “I mean, like, how did you meet?”

Perhaps she’d imagined the glance Kakashi sent her as he flipped the cake in the pan. “In school, a long time ago.” The spatula hit the edge with a metallic click. “Actually, he’s, uh, my best friend.”

Her stomach soured—of everything Genma had told her, she’d been hoping that one was the biggest lie.

“Oh.” It was lame, and she knew it sounded that way. “Has he always been a mechanic?”

“No, no, that’s a recent development. Some things happened, and he had to take over the family business.”

“What things?” Sakura pushed before she could help herself. She was sure it was something bad—he’d gotten fired, or gone to jail, or something just awful enough to make his family his last resort. Kakashi barely reacted, though.

“I think it’s my turn now,” he drawled simply, pleasantly. The fresh pancake was placed gently atop the heap, the gas on the stove was flipped off, and his attention was on her now, watching closely as she took a bite. “How do _you_ know Genma?”

The question wasn’t accusatory, and neither were his eyes, dark and steady as they were—now that his mask was back in place they were all she had to go by. But she felt unsettled still. Like she’d been found out. Of _course_ he’d known. He might have been private and terrible at talking, but he was far from oblivious. She should have given him more credit.

If she didn’t want to get this over with so badly, to clear the air as much as she did, she would have passed.

“He’s been dating my cousin off and on for the last couple of years.” Her eyes were on her lap, where the quilt bunched comfortably around her thighs.

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. It was fine for a while, but…he neglected her, and he cheated on her, and he _knows_ that she has some self-esteem issues from past relationships, and it just…” A breath gathered and caught hard in her chest. “He broke her heart. Really, really badly. And he won’t give her time to heal, because he keeps coming back.”

She hadn’t meant to spill all of that. At all. But it was out there now, and all she could do was fiddle with her food and try not to seethe, remembering all the times Shizune had gotten messy drunk or upset over him, and even the times she’d falsely believed things were good again. _Asshole._

“So… _that’s_ …why you two were having a powwow at the garage.”

At Kakashi’s weird tone, she immediately looked at him and found his expression distant. Dazed, even.

“Wait…what did you think we were doing?”

His free hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. He wouldn’t look at her, so she tapped his leg with her ankle.

“Kakashi.” Was he—was he _blushing?_ “What is it?”

“I—nothing.”

“No, come on!” She grabbed at the hem of his sweater. “That’s my question, then. And you already used your pass. So now you have to answer it.”

“You really don’t let things go easily, do you,” he mumbled, face pinkening over the edge of the mask, and Sakura tried to pull him closer.

“ _Someone_ has to do the talking around here.” The sweater method was ineffective, so she went for his fingers instead. Some flour was dusted around them, drying the skin, and they slid a little rough against her palm. “Let’s hear it.”

He sighed quietly, resigned, and looked out the window over the sink where it was dark. Everything was silent in the house, save for one of the dogs ambling down the hall.

“I thought that…the two of you were involved somehow. Or had been, anyway, and you both wanted to spare me the awkwardness.”

There he went, rubbing the back of his neck again. It took a minute for the statement to sink in, but when it did, Sakura had to hold back a laugh. Or a choke, really, one that toed the line of a full-out gag.

“You mean—you thought Genma was…? That we—” She couldn’t bring herself to even say it. “Oh my God, no. No, no, no. Never. I swear on my life.”

“I believe you.” He squeezed her hand briefly. “Don’t worry.”

She did, though. It was her specialty, and she needed this to be explicitly clear.

“I was never… _with_ Genma, I will never _be_ with Genma. I promise that he has nothing to do with me meeting you. I didn’t even know you two knew each other.”

“I believe you, Sakura.”

“Kakashi,” she said, more softly now. A terrible something had occurred to her when she recalled his silence during the last few days, the way he’d gotten more…territorial, for lack of a better word—how he’d lavished her with attention while they had sex, had done whatever he could to please her; how he’d been emotionally withdrawn, more so than usual. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet this week?”

His eyebrows converged in slow, genuine puzzlement. He was looking at her now, too.

“I was?”

“Yeah,” came her breathy confirmation and the nod along with it. “That’s why I was making up all that weird shit about…work fantasies, or whatever that was.” A nervous bubble of sound rose from her throat. “I was wondering why you’d checked out on me all of a sudden.”

“Oh. Sorry.” His eye smile was sheepish, for once. “It certainly did the trick. I was pretty interested until you mentioned me wanting to do it in front of everyone in the café, though.”

“Kakashi, I’m serious.” She slid off the counter to stand beside him, to put her arms around him and cocoon him in the quilt. “Is it…do you not trust me? Did you think I was just fucking with you this whole time or something?”

“No, Sakura.” He tucked some hair behind her ear, punctuating the words with tenderness. Hesitance, almost, but definite tenderness. “I’ve never thought that. This is—this is my problem, honestly. I’m not very good at, uh, relationships.” He did the same to her other ear, then touched the lobe with his thumb. “Or expressing myself. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

She felt like an idiot when she saw the way his brow lowered over his eyes, the slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes. She felt awful, because once again she’d only been thinking of herself, how things were affecting _her._ Not how they were affecting him, or how she herself had impacted Kakashi and his state of mind. He never turned out to be as laid-back and easygoing as she made him out to be.

“No, I should be the one apologizing. I keep getting so wrapped up in my own ridiculous head that I forget to stop and think about how _you_ feel.” Her forehead touched his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, constant and there near the center of his ribs. “I don’t even know why you tolerate me. You deserve so much better.”

She felt his small, long breath rather than hearing it, and then there was an even smaller quiet, deep enough to swim in. His hand smoothed over her hair once, twice.

He was so nice to her, always, especially when she’d done nothing to warrant it. He was nice and forgiving and wonderful—another reason that made her question why an asshole like Genma was his best friend. But this wasn’t about Genma anymore. The brief window to ask about him had already passed, and now it was about her and Kakashi.

“It’s not just tolerating,” he said in his low, even voice, bringing her out of her head, and the words seeped into her skin like nothing she’d ever felt from him before.

And then his fingers were softly tipping her chin up to let her meet his eyes, to see his bared face now that the mask was bundled in his back pocket, and watch as his own eyes traced the shape of her cheek and mouth with a physical weight, like they were stones, smooth and cool and obsidian. When he leaned down to kiss her, she was ready—the quilt was heavy on her arms as she hugged him tighter at the waist, her mouth warm against the slow drag and press of his.

If she had any doubts before, they were wiped clean now.

For the first time, there was no urgency in it, no rolling heat or kinetic tension. There was simply an acknowledgment, a little glimmer of promise and hope. No guessing, no fun and games. Just being, sealing up the moment, learning each other through breath and lips.

_This_ felt more like it—what she’d wanted and had been hoping for. What she was starting to believe Kakashi wanted to. This felt like dating, or really more of a _togetherness_ than anything. A cohesiveness that caught invitingly in her chest. This was more than just sex and knowing each other in a physical sense, what places to touch and how to make them feel the best.

It was a connection, and a true one at that. Something new and young and good. Something real.

Something to look forward to.

He pulled back to kiss her cheek, and she did the same to him, brushing her lips over a tiny rough patch of hiding stubble. And then she kissed him on the other cheek, and again, all the way until she reached his ear. Her arms came up to hold him there, her hold around his shoulders while his encircled her waist, palms flat and sure against her back.

“Be patient with me,” he whispered into her ear, which she wasn’t expecting, especially not the way the soft, naked quality of it there plucked gently at her heartstrings. What wasn’t surprising, of course, was the little bit of wryness laid carefully over it. She drank both of them in as she nodded, taking the clean scent of his laundry and skin with them.

“I will,” she whispered back. “Or at least I’ll do my best. You’ll have to be patient with me, too, unfortunately.”

Kakashi hummed a chuckle, one that brought a fizzy heat to her cheeks.

“That I can do.” He detached entirely now, lightly ruffling her hair. “Now let’s eat some fucking pancakes.”

Sakura laughed, surprised—she’d heard him hardly, if ever, curse—and then laughed harder, easily. He smiled at her with that lopsided grace, replacing his mask as he collected from forks from a nearby drawer.

She didn’t have all the answers, of course, but she had a lot now. Patience was big thing to ask of her, she was sure they _both_ knew, but it was something she was willing to put a great deal of effort into if it made Kakashi feel as at-ease as he perpetually seemed. And maybe, just maybe, sometime in the far-off future, she’d learn to let some things go for the sake of times like this. The trust would come along with it. She cared about Kakashi, and she knew in this moment that he cared about her, and it was good.

She took the plate he offered her and curled up on the sofa beside him, fed him a few bites of pancake in between some of her own, and shared the tiny amount of syrup he’d unearthed from a bottle in the back of his cabinet. And it was all very, very good.

She would let this be enough. For now, anyway. The rest could wait.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m hungry. notes:
> 
> 1\. happy new year!! i’d apologize for a lapse in updates, but i’ve had so many personal issues i’ve had to work through that got really goddamn hard these past few months and i’m glad to say that i feel halfway decent now. let’s hope 2017 is way better than last year lol  
> 2\. thanks for the comments, especially those few of you who basically just said “dude update.” this one’s for you  
> 3\. in japanese culture, blood types are kind of like horoscopes - people believe that each type has different traits. according to canon, sakura and kakashi actually both do have type O, meaning that they’re strong-willed, very ambitious, and rely on their intuition. but they can also tend to be quite cold, usually without meaning to, and a bit unpredictable and arrogant/self-centered. they’re typically pretty flexible and confident, though, so. yeah. anyway. just some food for thought.  
> 4\. finally tsunade makes her appearance! anyone who knows me knows the tsunade is probably my favorite character of all time. she’s here to stay n for several reasons. anyone else love a good blowout wedding? because i do. in fic, at least. anyone else want jiraiya to be their sugar daddy? asking for a friend.  
> 5\. thank you to my boo ninjas-in-love light of my life fire of my loins for all the meat-beating and help and encouragement. ur seriously the bomb diggity. BIG smooches.
> 
> don’t forget to drop me a comment, a line, or even just a good recipe for fluffy pancakes. 
> 
> until next chap xoxo


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